


Tiger Hunt

by Xparrot



Category: One Piece
Genre: Action, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nakama, Rain, Shounen Fights, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-07
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 62,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xparrot/pseuds/Xparrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rainy night, an unexpected threat, a desperate crew. And Zoro has never been so lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a collaboration between Naye and me; the writing is mine but the original (genius) plot bunny was hers. She generously shared it with me, and we raised it to storyhood together. It rose from our burning desire to see...ah, but that would be telling.
> 
> Gen crew-fic; everyone should get their moment in the spotlight. Set on the Grand Line, after Skypiea and before Water 7.

No sooner had he lit the cigarette when the wind dashed the rain into his face, extinguishing that ember. Spitting the damp butt into the mud, Sanji drew his poncho tighter around his shoulders, cursing out the wind, the rain, the muddy streets, the whole town, and of course the damn moron of swordsman whose fault it was he was out here to begin with.

It was almost sundown, not that anyone could tell. In three days the dark cloud cover overhead hadn't parted once, and the rain, while occasionally slackening to a few teasing drips, always resumed downpouring within minutes. Just their luck that they had come here during the spring.

Regretfully opting not to waste any more cigarettes, Sanji thrust his hands into his pockets under the poncho and continued slogging down the street. This must be the wealthier side of town, going by the brick buildings and wrought-iron gates, and the utter lack of people. Anyone who could afford it fled Monsun for the season; the streets were as deserted as a soggy ghost town. Sanji doubted he had seen more than half a dozen people since they had arrived, and not a single beautiful woman among them. The owner of the sole open store, down by the docks, was an old grandmother, and even she had been veiled in oilcloth, hiding from the leaks in the sagging ceiling.

The locked doors and tightly shuttered windows made the town all the grimmer, and through the driving rain all the street corners looked the same. Small wonder the idiot had gotten lost; Sanji was a bit confused about where he himself was now, and he didn't have Zoro's unique directional sense. The swordsman was probably hiding from the rain in the most out-of-the-way place on the island—or else lying drunk in a puddle, taverns being the one thing he could locate with a reasonable success rate. Wherever he was, he better be at least as damp as Sanji himself, or there was going to be hell to pay.

Sanji snickered at the thought of the swordsman growing moss to match his hair, but was interrupted by a sneeze, which he followed up with more swearing. Two hours out in this and he was soaked to the skin. And no sign of Zoro.

It wasn't like it was the first time the swordsman had gotten lost on an island. He was bound to be wandering back any minute now—unless he had already. Sanji considered returning to the Going Merry, just to be sure. Brew up more coffee for Robin, who was keeping watch at the harbor. Change into something dry.

Which wouldn't long stay that way, if he had to go back out in this. And searching wouldn't be any easier once full night had fallen; there wasn't anyone around to light the streetlamps, even if a lantern flame could survive this damp. They would be better off waiting for tomorrow, like he had tried to argue earlier, to no avail.

Of course he understood Nami's wish to be gone from this wretched island. The log pose had set this morning, and they had already gotten what supplies were to be had in this sad excuse for a port. The only delay was their crewmate's absence. Directionally-challenged dumb son of a bitch. Even for Zoro, three days was ridiculous. It wasn't as if the island were that big, hardly more than this one town. Maybe he had wandered into the ocean and gotten lost under the water.

Hell, in this rain, that wouldn't be such a ridiculous mistake. The streets were more muddy rivers than roads anyway.

They could have just left without the swordsman; Zoro could catch up on his own. Nami had looked like she was considering it—but it hadn't been her choice to make, even if Sanji would gladly obey her every wish; a ship isn't a democracy. Not that they followed most marine traditions, but even on the Going Merry, the captain's word is law. Which wasn't a privilege Luffy abused by any means, but when he did on occasion have a command, there wasn't much choice about following it. Even out into downpours and deserted streets.

They had grumbled—most of them had grumbled, except for Robin, who only nodded silently, and Chopper, who had already been pacing the docks for most of the day and was quite soaked for it. But none of them had argued. Captain's orders.

Maybe it was because Luffy was as anxious as any of them to get moving again; the guy was going stir-crazy, shut up inside out of the rain. He had been on edge for the last few days, unable to sit still for so much as half a minute; at night he had been shouting and fighting in his dreams. Sanji hadn't even been able to keep him occupied with food; he would devour everything at double-speed—which, given his usual pace, was nothing short of incredible to watch—and then resume bugging whoever he had fixed on for that instant. Which gave them all reason to regret Zoro's absence, because the distraction of one more crewmate would have meant an extra minute of peace for all of them.

Except for the nagging feeling that there was more to it than boredom. Sanji had thought he was just imagining it, until he overheard Usopp pulling Luffy aside to ask seriously, "Is something wrong?" And Luffy had shrugged it off, and insisted on starting a game of checkers in which he lost interest after three moves. But Usopp had noticed it, too. Nothing they could put their fingers on, exactly; but maybe Luffy hadn't been laughing as much as usual, or else there was something wrong about the way he did.

Probably just the rain. The relentless patter on the cabin roof wore you down, and the air was so heavy with moisture it felt difficult to breathe. What else it could be? If there were any threat on this little island they surely would have encountered it by now. But they had all been debating the wisdom of a Zoro-hunt, or just saying to hell with him and sailing anyway, and Luffy had been sitting there, quiet as he had been noisy before. Then he had stood, said, "We'll all go look for him," and had walked outside without looking back, knowing they would follow.

They had split up to search, with the agreement that whoever found him would return to the ship to let off one of Usopp's signal flares. But in two hours, though Sanji kept looking to the harbor, no bright light had broken through the rain's constant grays.

Maybe the stupid swordsman had drowned after all.

Maybe Luffy had found him, and then they both had gotten lost. Having Luffy search for anyone on his own was a spectacularly stupid idea. Not that they had had any choice; their captain had run off faster than any of them could follow.

Or maybe Sanji had just missed the flare. His wet hair kept getting in his eyes, obscuring his vision. He could return to check. What if Robin were getting lonely? The idiot could find his own way back, if he were anywhere around here.

It wasn't like anything could have actually happened to him. Nothing in this damn town but the damn rain, and if Zoro were stuck out in it, that was his own damn fault. No reason for them all to suffer; nothing was stopping him from going back right now and waiting this out in a dry cabin.

Sanji swore again, and kept forging down the street.

 

* * *

 

From under his hood, the bounty hunter watched the rain stream down the window, blurring the reflections of his employer and the man with whom he was negotiating. The marine commodore's finery was soaked and bedraggled, silk coat stained with the rainwater, peacock feather in his hat drooping and dripping. His sour expression might have been because of that. Or else it was merely impatience. "So, you're ready? As you promised you'd be two days ago?"

"I apologize," his employer replied, in a low voice that was probably meant to sound ingratiating, but he couldn't pull it off. He was too large a man, too confident in his own strength; the hunter could have taken him in a second, but he was used to being a power among lesser men. Though the commodore seemed appeased, so maybe that raspy baritone grated on his nerves for other reasons. "There were unforeseen delays. But everything's ready now. As long as _you're_ ready to hold up your end of the bargain."

The commodore sniffed. "May I remind you who's the wanted criminal here?"

"Shut up," growled the man, his eyes flicking to his associate. The hunter didn't even bother to shrug. He knew the man had been hiding something from him; if he had been lying about his Marine rank, it didn't matter. Not if he could still give what he promised, and the commodore's presence made that possible.

"I have the contract with me," the officer said, taking a parchment out of the oilskin pouch at his hip. "Already approved; all it needs is my signature. A full pardon—"

"And my rank restored."

"Yes, yes." The commodore pushed the paper at him, waved at it dismissively. "It's all there. Including your captaincy. I can't promise you jurisdiction over a base, but if this does work out—"

"You'll be in very good standing with the admirals by this time tomorrow night."

"And I won't forget who got me there." The officer smiled, a thin, mirthlessly triumphant smirk. In the distorted reflection of the dark glass, his head looked like a skull in a curly wig, then lost the resemblance as he frowned again. "If this works, of course. You're lucky they haven't left already."

"My man won't fail." He gestured to the hunter, who didn't turn from the window.

The commodore squinted at his back through his gold pince-nez. "Him? Doesn't look like much. What's his devil fruit power?"

"He doesn't have one."

"He doesn't have one?" repeated the commodore, incredulous. "My dear man, we're talking about one of the higher bountied pirates on the Grand Line. To say nothing of his crew—two of his officers are also enemies of the state, you realize. No one's ever succeeded in capturing Nico Robin, and as for the swordsman—"

"The swordsman," his employer cut in, "has already been taken care of. And the rest of them...well, we have a swordsman of our own." He pointed at the hunter imperatively. "Show him."

The hunter turned, brushing back his hood enough to glare at his employer. "Show him yourself. I'm your dog, not your trained monkey."

But the lamplight falling on his face was enough for the commodore. The officer sat up, his eyes widening a little, and then he leaned back again, the smirk tightening his skeletal features. "Ah, I see. So the rumors were true. Interesting. But will he do it?"

"Absolutely," his employer said. "He's been promised his share of the reward money—"

The hunter didn't say a word, hardly moved, but to rest his hand on one hilt at his belt. But the look the man shot him was familiar. Many people did recognize him, and many who did were afraid, though he rarely permitted himself to enjoy it. In the case of this son of a bitch, however, he made an exception, though he didn't let the smile reach his lips, as the man hastily added, "And he wants his name pardoned. You can help me with that."

The commodore's thin brows raised. "Easier said than done, in his case. Though I'm sure arrangements could be made, if he does succeed..."

"He'll succeed," his employer said. His tone was unbearably smug, and the hunter considered again how much he disliked this man, that superiority he took such pleasure in. If the hunter had known earlier that he was a wanted criminal—but the man could get him what he needed, and it wasn't worth it to be more than irritated. Hatred is too powerful a force to yield to lightly. "He has his own reasons. More important than anything else."

"And what might those be?" the commodore inquired, a note of challenge in his soft tone, unless it was simply curiosity.

The man's face was not really able to smile, but the snarling curl of his upper lip had the bloodthirsty amusement of a cat playing with its prey. "Justice, of course. Like any innocent man wants." He stood, looming over the hunter, who didn't bother to angle his head up to meet his eyes. "And the chance for just revenge, of course. What's a hundred million beri, compared to that?" He set his good hand on the hunter's shoulder, bore down. "Who have you been waiting for the chance to fight, all this time? Of all the pirates you've gone after, who's the only one to escape?"

The hunter said nothing, just grabbed the man's arm and wrenched it back, forcing his employer to his knees, so their eyes were level. The commodore sprang up, knocking over his chair as he fumbled for the jeweled pistol at his belt.

But the man just laughed, yanked his wrist free and climbed back to his feet. "It's not me who got you into this. You know whose fault it is." His laughter was as harsh as his voice; it buzzed in his ears, as incessant and irritating as the rain outside. He was so damn sick of that voice. But this was the only way, and as soon as this nonsense was over he would have his chance. That anticipation was a rising tide in his blood, powerful enough to wash away his annoyance with this petty man. "You've been waiting for this long enough, haven't you? You won't fail. So tell us, who will be defeated tonight?" His heart was pounding in his ears, so loud he could hardly hear the rasp of the man's question. "Who are you hunting?"

The hunter's eyes narrowed, his mouth curving in something too fierce and full of hatred to be a smile. "Monkey D. Luffy."


	2. Chapter 2

As he trotted down the empty street, Chopper's hoof caught on the cobblestone under the mud. He stumbled, hopped a step and steadied himself on his other three legs.

He was an ordinary reindeer at present, his poncho draped awkwardly over his back. Some of the puddles would be up to his waist were he in his regular form, and as for his man shape, he had never gotten comfortable walking long distances with his head so high above the ground on only two legs. He wished the poncho fit him better, though; it kept slipping down off his haunches, and with no hands to adjust it he kept having to pull it back with his teeth. He would have just discarded it, but the constant rain had already washed too much of the oils from his fur. The poncho provided some protection, even if he was already soaked through.

Raising his head, he stopped at the crossroads to sniff again. The rain also washed away scents, which would be a blessing sometimes; the odors of a busy town often were too strong for his sensitive nose. But now, when he needed so badly to be able to follow them, there were only the clean, earthy smells of mud and rain, and a faint hint of ozone, a lightning scent that told him this present storm would worsen.

And Zoro was out in it, somewhere.

Darkness was falling, but his reindeer eyes were sharper in low light than his human ones. But there was no motion to be seen, up or down any of the streets, except the falling rain. Opening his mouth, he called out, "Zoro!" and kept shouting it as he turned a circle, ears perked. The splash of raindrops overwhelmed any echoes, or any answers.

Head dropped again, Chopper continued down another street, his hooves falling heavily in the mud. No sign of him here, either, not a single whiff. In this rain his nose was little good, and it was hard to convince himself that he wasn't just as useless.

It would be all right, Usopp had told him so. If Zoro didn't find his own way back—and he's probably on his way right now, the sharpshooter had assured with a grin—then one of them would find him in a jiffy. Apparently 'a jiffy' was somewhat longer than two hours, since he hadn't seen the signal flare yet, but it was bound to be soon. And then they could all get out of this rain. Chopper didn't like the rain. It was cold, not the pleasant crisp cold of ice, just a dull, dreary chill, like a toothache in your bones. He missed the bright whiteness of snow, and the silence of snowflakes, not this constant deafening rainfall.

But he could stand it until they found Zoro. He couldn't give up just because he was wet—pirates don't give up for anything, least of all the weather. If he were lost, Chopper knew, Zoro would be looking for him, and nothing would stop him, not a hurricane or a sandstorm or a tornado a hundred kilometers high. It wouldn't stop Luffy, either, or Usopp, or any of them; they were pirates. But nothing would slow Zoro down, not if Chopper needed him, or any of the crew did.

Zoro might need them now, however. And truthfully, though it would be good if any of them found him, Chopper had been hoping that it might be him. He had been pacing the docks all day, looking for some sign to follow—he would track Zoro down, and then they could walk back to the ship together, and everyone would be happy to see them, and Zoro would tell him, "Thank you," in that kind way he had. That was what he had been hoping, but he couldn't track anything in the rain.

And though Usopp had said it was okay, and he did believe Usopp, at the same time he couldn't help but wonder how he could be so sure. This was longer than Zoro had ever been lost before, by almost a day. Usopp had teased him about worrying, but what if Zoro had gotten hurt somehow? Zoro got hurt quite a lot, and while he always got better, even when he didn't listen to what Chopper told him to do, if he was injured now—maybe he had slipped in the mud and broken his leg, so he couldn't walk back to the ship, or if someone had attacked him—a lot of people, because just one or two couldn't hurt Zoro—

The wind changed, blowing rain into his face, and something more. Chopper stopped in his tracks, blinking. Very faintly he smelled a human scent—not just any human, but a particular tinge of sweat and blood and seasalt, the metallic tang of steel and the merest hint of something that he always thought might be incense, such as you'd burn at a grave. That was Zoro, and Chopper gave a little bound of excitement, then stood stock-still for fear of losing it, slowly turning his head to zero in on its origin.

The building he was passing was no different than any others in the street, a two-story brick house wedged between two other identical dwellings, the windows tightly shuttered and no candlelight showing through the cracks. But when he lowered his nose to the stoop, he caught the scent again. Nothing to hear, however, when he listened against the door.

Chopper debated with himself for a moment. Before they had all split up to search, Usopp had told him, "If you find anything, just come right to me, we'll figure it out!" Then Sanji had muttered, "Unless it's something scary, then you can run away together," and Usopp had replied, "Unless it's a spider, then you can go ask Sanji, he _loves_ those," and the cook had thrown a kick which the sharpshooter ducked, sticking out his tongue. But before Sanji had left, he had stopped beside Chopper to light a cigarette, and said quietly, "Hey, if you do run into someone out for a fight, come get me. Or Luffy, if you can find him."

Chopper had gotten mad, because he could fight, too, but before he could yell anything he had looked up at the cook, who was staring out into the sheeting rain, his jaw set with annoyance, and something else, too. And Chopper had realized that maybe Sanji didn't quite believe Usopp, either. But if there was someone in this town who had fought Zoro, and had—not won, not against Zoro, but if they were strong enough not to lose, either...

But he didn't hear anything inside this house, no sounds of a battle. And if he took the time to seek out Usopp or Sanji or the others first, Zoro might go away, if he were actually here.

Shaking the poncho to a better position around his neck, Chopper changed into his large man-shape and knocked on the door. No one answered. After waiting a minute and trying again, he glanced around the street to make sure there was no one watching, then slammed his broad shoulder into the door. The hinges gave way on the third blow, and he shoved inside.

The entryway and the room beyond it were too dark to see anything except that there was no motion inside. He became small and crept further in, his hooves clopping on the floorboards and the poncho dragging a trail of puddles behind him. "Hello?" he asked timidly, but no answer came.

A few meters inside, Chopper bumped into something. He jumped up, squealing, and the wooden chair knocked over into the wall with a crash and a clash, metal jangling. The noise was loud in the silence, then died away, leaving just his breathing and the muted rush of the rain on the roof. No voices or footsteps suggested anyone else was around to hear it.

Zoro's scent was here, and other scents, other people he didn't know, as well as normal odors like metal and dust and alcohol, and a sharp, bitter smell that might be medicine. No blood, though, or any whiff of illness. And while his scent was strong enough that Zoro must have been here for some time, he wasn't here now.

But he had definitely found something, even if he wasn't sure what it meant. "Just come right to me!" Usopp had said. Chopper squeezed back outside, pushed the door back into place as well as he could, then reassumed his reindeer form and galloped off toward the side of town the sharpshooter was investigating.

 

* * *

 

By the time the hunter reached the docks, night had fallen. There should be a full moon; the clouds overhead were dimly suffused with gray light, shimmering on the choppy waves.

Crouched on the rooftop of the shipyard's warehouse, he studied the ship in the harbor. Its sails were furled, and the black flag on top of the mast was lashed by the rain, wound around its pole so that its mark could not be discerned. But he had seen their ship before, didn't need the Jolly Rogers to identify that distinctive caravel. He peered through the rain, but saw no one on deck, and the portholes all were dark, no lanterns lit in the cabins.

Before he could descend and get closer, the slightest rattle above and behind alerted him. Hand on one hilt, he twisted around and saw, standing on the roof's peak silhouetted against the sky, a tall, slender woman. Rain poured off the brim of her white hat as she tilted her head to study him.

"Ah," she said, her voice low, calm, amused. "It's you." Recognition showed on her sharp features; she likely knew him the same way he knew her, by reputation and by the wanted posters. There was no threat in her casual stance; she must assume that as a fellow criminal, he wouldn't pose a danger to her. And hers was the higher bounty.

The hunter didn't draw his swords, not yet. "Where is he?" he asked. "Your captain."

She frowned slightly. " _My_ —?"

"Where is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Her frown deepened, almost unnoticeably, and her angular eyes narrowed. But her voice stayed just as calm. "Why do you ask?"

It was no good. Nico Robin might betray her comrades, but never this obviously, not for no reason.

She was watching him; the instant his arm moved she had raised her own—two, crossed over her chest, and eight more springing from the ground and his own body, hands grabbing his ankles, his wrists, wrenching back. The sheer shock of it might have frozen some people, but the hunter was prepared. He had fought devil fruit eaters before; the unnaturalness didn't faze him. Those slender arms were stronger than they appeared, but not enough. Ignoring the stranglehold and the grip holding his feet down, he wrenched one of his arms free, faster than she could grab him again.

She wasn't stupid; some hands were clutching his swords, but he smashed his fist into five of those fingers. The instant they let go, he closed his own hand around the hilt and drew the sword in a sweeping arc, so swift it severed raindrops. Before she could withdraw, the blade scored long gashes across four arms, spattering blood on his face and chest, hot where the rain was cold.

Her gasp was barely audible, but like that all those grasping hands were gone, and she stood holding her arm, dark blood dripping through her spread fingers. In the shadows the impassive set of her features might have been the stillness of shock. She opened her mouth, but he gave her no time to ask a question.

As he lunged for her, she raised her good arm, and a wave of like limbs rippled over the roof, a hand reaching from every tile. Before any could snatch him he leapt up out of their reach, two swords whirling like cyclones. She stumbled back to avoid those flashing blades, and lost her footing on the rain-slicked roof tiles.

The arms vanished as she tumbled off. Lowering his swords, he leaned over the edge and saw her, fallen on the cobblestone below, her head crooked back.

It didn't matter to him. Dead or alive, the wanted posters read, and she wasn't his real prey. Still, that she fallen without even a shout, so little a challenge for all her bounty—he looked down at Nico Robin's motionless body, and a curse escaped his gritted teeth, as the last of her blood dripped off his chin with the rain.

 

* * *

 

Robin had not anticipated this; it was not a fight she could win. She needed to tell the others, warn them. So she fell, catching herself at the very last instant, and didn't try to get up again, instead lay there in the street, limp.

She heard, faintly, the splash as he leapt down, light as a cat, but instead of retreating, his footsteps approached her supine body.

One more chance, then. She didn't dare open an eye, even one displaced from herself; if he noticed, this would be over. She would need to be absolutely certain. She continued to lie still, willing herself motionless, though she needed to tense her muscles slightly against shivering, as the rain beat down on her. Her lips were sealed against the water; it trickled down her face, into her nose, until she thought she might be drowning. But he was almost there, his footsteps stopped; he might be leaning over her now. Her wounded arm throbbed, and her shoulder ached where she hadn't quite managed to break her fall. She braced herself—ten arms, any more and she couldn't adequately direct their individual motion, but hopefully they would be strong enough.

But the instant before she acted, his boot slammed into the small of her back and sent her flying, as casually as he might kick some trash off his path. Of course, she had time to realize, with the wind knocked out of her so hard she couldn't even gasp, he wouldn't want her body to be seen, if any of the others came back—and she opened her eyes in time to see the dark ocean rushing toward her, waves reaching up to drag her into their fatal embrace.


	3. Chapter 3

The great Captain Usopp—wrapped in an oilcloth poncho and struggling with an umbrella—catching a chill from the cold rain would hardly be Manly, after all—made his way down the treacherous streets, agilely hopping from cobblestone to cobblestone. One misstep and he would slip and fall into the flooded river, where the fierce hundred-fanged piranhas would strip his flesh from his bones in the blink of an eye—

Therefore when his boot did slip, he only just managed to keep from shrieking as he splashed into the brown gutter. Picking up himself and his umbrella and shaking off the worst of the mud, he looked around, embarrassed. Fortunately there was no one watching him make a dumbass of himself.

He knew very well he was too old for these games. Chopper and Luffy would gladly play them with him, but Chopper was still young, at least by human reckoning, and though Luffy was Usopp's own age, Luffy never worried about things like that. Usopp didn't think he had ever seen Luffy embarrassed, no matter how idiotic he was acting; it was one of the things he admired most about his captain.

But at any rate, this was no time for him to be having fun; he had an important mission. Straightening his back, he marched a good ten purposeful steps before he started, not quite consciously, to avoid the brown acid bubbling up between the cobblestones, which would melt...

Usopp stopped. "No," he said aloud, enjoying the echo of his voice down the empty street, before the rain obscured it. "You have a job to do," he informed himself. "Your crewmate needs you."

Which, to be honest, he doubted a bit. Zoro rarely needed any of them. Well, except for when Arlong had nearly killed him. And on Little Garden when he had been becoming a wax statue with Nami and Vivi. But at the moment they were the ones who needed to locate Zoro. And since none of the others had apparently had any success, obviously it was up to Usopp himself.

All right, then. If he were a swordsman with no sense of direction, where would he be? For a moment he stood in the street, pondering. He lowered the umbrella—Zoro wouldn't have had the foresight to have one—and let the rain drip down his face. This got him colder and wetter than he was already, but no closer to fathoming Zoro's mind, so he raised the umbrella again and pretended it was a sword, stabbing it up at the dark sky. "I'll show you a storm!" he shouted up to the clouds challengingly. "Tatsu—"

But before he could complete the attack, he had the unmistakable realization that he was being watched. Ears burning, Usopp lowered the umbrella, spun around, then grinned as he spotted the man at the other end of the street. Even through the rain and darkness, he could see the three swords at his side. "Zoro!" he called gladly, waving, and splashed down the street to his crewmate.

Zoro waited for him, standing straight and still. He had a dark cape around his shoulders, but the hood was back, so the rain beat down on the black bandana tied over his hair. "Hey," Usopp said as he reached the swordsman, "where've you been? We've been hunting for you all evening."

Zoro gave him a wary look, as if he had said something outrageous, like the sky was falling or Luffy was going on a diet. "You knew I was here?" he asked, a low, tight growl.

"Well, we didn't know you were _here_ , obviously. Or else we wouldn't have been _hunting_ , right?" The bandana always made him look fiercer, and in the night Usopp could hardly see his eyes at all, just the faintest glint under that black shadow. "Why are you wearing that, anyway?" Nami had, as usual, warned them all about causing trouble—Zoro and Luffy especially, considering the bounties on their heads, couldn't afford to draw attention to themselves. Not that they had any trouble handling it if they did, usually.

Indeed, he noticed a suspicious stain on the white shirt under the cloak—just a few spots, but Usopp punched Zoro in the arm, asked, "That's not your blood, right? Did you take care of whoever it was? Are they after you?" He glanced around, but fortunately saw no one following. "Come on, let's—"

Zoro grabbed his shoulder, wrenched him back around hard enough that he almost fell, but that vise-like hand caught him and jerked him up again. "Hey," Usopp protested, "what—" Of course it didn't hurt, he wasn't a wimp, but really the swordsman didn't know his own strength—

"Where is he?" Zoro asked—demanded, really, staring down at Usopp and not relaxing his grip so much as a hair.

Zoro was pissed about something, Usopp realized. Not with him, Usopp doubted; he hadn't to his knowledge disturbed a nap, which was his usual way of annoying Zoro. "Where's who?" he asked, trying to twist free, and failing. If Zoro's fingers dug any deeper they would tear his poncho. "Ow, c'mon, leggo—" Or his tendons. Maybe he had accidentally done something after all.

"Where is Monkey D. Luffy?" Zoro asked.

Usopp stopped squirming, blinked at him. "Luffy? I don't know...we split up to look for you, I don't know which way he went."

Something changed in Zoro's expression, he wasn't sure what, but the shadow over his eyes seemed to darken, as if the cloud-shrouded moon had gone out. "Hey," Usopp asked, his mouth suddenly dry, for all the rain. There was more than just irritation in Zoro's cold anger. "What's wrong? Did something happen to Luffy? Was somebody going after him, too—we gotta find him, then—"

"You'll be of no use to me," Zoro said, such a flat statement of fact that Usopp felt it like a kick to the gut.

"W-what?" he stammered, scrambling to raise a protest to such complete dismissal. "I—I can—"

Zoro released him with a shove that sent him stumbling back. Usopp tripped, found his footing and looked up, to see that the swordsman had drawn one katana.

Before he could ask why, or look around to see what enemy had appeared, the blade plunged forward, and Usopp jerked, stiffened. He felt the impact more than anything else, like he had been flattened between giant hands, couldn't comprehend what it meant until he looked down and saw the blade buried in his chest, a little crimson seeping over the shining wet steel.

When the sword pulled free, blood gushed with it, and still it didn't hurt, still didn't make sense, like it wasn't happening at all. He was the liar, but this lie was beyond any he could think of telling. Zoro was only watching, shadowed face impassive, red-stained rain flowing off the sword in his hand.

When he pressed his hands to his chest, he could feel the liquid heat pumping from that hole in him. The night tipped around him crazily, and Usopp fell.


	4. Chapter 4

Chopper heard the shout, recognized Usopp's voice and smiled, trotting down the alley. When he reached the street, he peered down it and saw the two figures at the corner. Usopp's umbrella bobbed as he stumbled, maybe slipping in the mud; the other man's back was to Chopper, but when he pulled the sword the doctor realized who it should be. "Zoro!" he cried happily.

And then the sword stabbed forward, and then it withdrew in a gleaming arc. The umbrella dropped from Usopp's hands, skating down the street with the wind, and he staggered back, one step, two, and fell.

Chopper would have thought someone was playing a trick on him, because didn't he always fall for them? But his crewmates' jokes were never cruel, and he could smell the blood, metallic tang in the wet night. Usopp lay there in the muddy road, sprawled with his legs and arms at all wrong angles, a jumble of discarded sticks. He didn't move, but the swordsman raised his blade, and Chopper realized that if he meant to deal a finishing blow, then there must be some life left to finish.

"Usopp!" he screamed, and broke from his paralysis, galloping all out down the street. The swordsman turned, but Chopper didn't spare a second to look at his face, whoever he was. Hooves skidding on the wet stones, he swerved around that deadly figure, splashing mud as he transformed to his human form. He scooped up Usopp, threw him over his broad shoulder and kept running on two legs.

He didn't dare look back. Even Usopp hadn't had a chance against the man. That swordsman hadn't wanted a fight; he had wanted to kill him.

His crewmate coughed, jerking at the impact of his footfalls. The poncho had twisted back, so Usopp's blood was matting his fur. It had happened too fast, in the dark; Chopper couldn't even tell where he had been stabbed. He turned a corner left, then right, ducking down the streets as if he were dodging through a forest in an instinctive gambit to escape. Doctor, doctor, he needed a doctor...

You're _the doctor_ , a voice reminded, and it might have been Usopp's, but it was only in his head. Chopper turned back his head as he ran, saw only an empty street behind him. He slowed, walking backwards, feeling Usopp shudder under his arm. There was no sign of the swordsman.

In an alcove between two buildings, the overhanging roofs provided some protection from the rain. Chopper crept in, ducking his head so his hat would fit, shrugged off his poncho and laid his crewmate on it. Shrinking to his regular form, he pushed aside Usopp's rain gear, then ripped his overalls with his hooves to better examine the wound. Deep, but even in the dark he saw the sword had missed Usopp's heart, and almost sobbed in relief. Usopp groaned as he applied pressure, one-handed as he rummaged through his backpack. Bandages—the crucial thing now was to stop the bleeding. Once back on the ship he could worry about antiseptics.

"Usopp, come on, wake up!" the doctor pleaded as he worked, and Usopp moaned again, eyes fluttering open as he slowly came to.

As the first bandages were tied tight, he gasped, and Chopper patted him on the arm, whispered, "Sorry, it's going to hurt—"

But Usopp jerked, trying to sit up, wide eyes staring over Chopper's shoulder. The darkness became even darker as a shadow fell across them, and Chopper whirled, swelling up to put the bulk of his man shape between his crewmate and danger.

The night was too dim for him to see the figure silhouetted at the mouth of the alcove, but wind blew down the street, spattering them with rain, and enough of a scent to recognize the man. "Zoro!" Chopper cried, coming very close to flinging himself at his crewmate, but Zoro didn't care for hugs even when the hugger wasn't soaking wet and bloody. "There's someone out there and I thought he was you, but he hurt Usopp and then I ran and I don't know where he went but...he's..."

He stopped, because Zoro had drawn one katana, but he was not looking down the street for any enemy; instead he was looking at his crewmates. And Chopper smelled blood, more than just what was on him and Usopp. "Zoro?" he asked, faltering.

"So you're the monster," Zoro said, low and even.

 _Monster_. He should be used to it; Usopp called him it all the time. Even Luffy called him that, and Chopper couldn't help but like it then, even if he pretended not to, because Luffy said it so proudly. But Zoro never had, and the way he said it now was not pride, was not the old accustomed horror, either; it was barely even disgust. It was all Chopper could do to keep himself from hiding, from covering his face and his nose and his whole monstrous self; he almost couldn't bear to listen as Zoro went on, levelly, not even angry, "I can't have you warning him, or getting in the way. And you would."

He took a step forward, raising the sword, and Chopper would have backed away, but he couldn't retreat any further, Usopp was right behind him. "Z-zoro," he stammered, "what—what are you—"

He hadn't wanted a fight. It had been Zoro after all; it had been Zoro who had stabbed that sword into Usopp's chest, who had raised it over him. Who held one katana now, and Chopper could see it in his face, that same look as those men years ago who had shot him for daring approach their village—not the fear or the fury, but the resolution, the intent. More than to fight, more than just to hurt. "W-why—do you want to—to—kill—"

"I don't, really," Zoro said, calmly, "but you follow the wrong captain."

There was no regret; Zoro never regretted anything, and something flickered in his shadowed eyes as he said 'captain'. Still not anger—more than anger. Hatred, so absolute it blinded, so powerful it burned, and Chopper knew then that there was nothing he could say or do. If Zoro truly hated Luffy, then nothing he understood could be genuine; everything he knew was a lie, as much as they were always telling him anything Usopp said might be.

But Usopp told the truth a lot, Chopper knew that, and this—this could not be real, but Zoro took another step toward them. Chopper couldn't tell if he actually were moving with such slow deliberation, or if time itself was sticking. Usopp was gasping behind him, hyperventilating, panic or in shock from the wound, the doctor couldn't tell; he couldn't breathe himself, as if he were drowning.

Chopper spread his arms, as if they could block a sword. "P-please," he begged, "don't hurt him..."

Zoro might not have heard him at all, for all the reaction in that fierce countenance. He advanced another step, sliding forward with the oil-smooth pacing of a great cat.

Chopper had brought along a rumble ball, but that was in his bag behind Usopp; there was no way he could reach it in time. Without it he had no chance at this fight—with it he had no chance to win, but he might buy a little time, at least. But it might have been as far away as Drum Island; the first move he made for it, Zoro would be on him. Under the bandana the swordsman's eyes were fixed on him, and they would miss not a single gesture. But it would be just as useless to attack—and either way, once he was down, Zoro would finish what he had started, and Usopp was too badly injured to defend himself. Nothing he could do at all, and the sword was coming down, streaked silver in the clouded moonlight—

"Exploding star—rainy day special!"

A pellet not much larger than a pebble flipped past Chopper, hit Zoro in the chest and burst into a bright violet flare. The swordsman lurched back, out onto the street, brushing at his shirt as smoke billowed up with the rain. Chopper glanced down and saw Usopp, curled around his abdomen in an effort to sit up, one arm still stretched toward his unclasped pouch. He had flicked the shot with his thumb, his faultless aim not failing even when he could barely raise his hand.

Chopper snatched up his own bag, flipped open the front pocket and groped for the rumble ball. Zoro was already recovered from his surprise, clearing the air by whipping his blade down so fast the vortex drew away the smoke. Still blocking the exit of the alcove, and this was all Chopper's fault, for putting himself and Usopp in a place with no escape route, but there was no time for guilt. Usopp was depending on him and this was the only chance, however slim.

Zoro had seen him, however. The swordsman lunged, and Chopper flinched back.

Then Zoro came up short, checked by a noise in the street behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, a lightning-quick swivel of his head, where Chopper glimpsed motion within the dissipating smoke.

A second chance was more than he deserved. He pushed the rumble ball between his molars and bit down hard. As it cracked open and the bitter juice ran down his throat, a shout tore through the night, "Zoro, just what do you think you're doing?!"


	5. Chapter 5

Whatever the monster was planning, the hunter was prepared. He already knew there was more to him than the usual gifts of a zoan fruit eater; he had never fought the rest of the Strawhat crew, but when the creature stuck the little round candy into his mouth, he recalled something he heard somewhere along the line. Four extra shapes beyond the usual three. He was ready for it.

He was already annoyed with himself; he should have been just as ready for the sniper's attack. An injured man is no different than any other wounded animal, all the more dangerous for desperation. Plain stupidity to underestimate him—the man might not be a fighter, but there was no one weak in Monkey D. Luffy's crew. He should have struck to kill with his first blow—no, of course he had, but the long-nosed man had dodged at the last moment. He must have. And the hunter should have been faster to follow up that attack, but watching him fall, it had seemed so final...it should have been over then.

The monster's rescue had been unexpected, forcing him to hunt two instead of one. If either escaped to warn his quarry, he might lose his chance. The monster might have made it away on his own, outpacing him with that gallop, and these streets were confusing. But burdened with his crewmate they could be tracked—and that was an irritation, too. He disliked using someone's weaknesses against them. Not because of any useless code of honor, but how did it test anything of his own strength, if he only met his opponent's weakest points?

He was ready for the monster's gambit, and it was a last resort; he could see the despair in those large dark eyes. Fear so great it almost paralyzed the creature, and he aimed to be as certain and swift as possible—even the worst pirate deserves mercy.

But the footsteps behind him caught him off-guard, coming straight toward him. He spun around in time to hear her shout, and see the fist hurtling toward his head. He caught it with his free hand, then grabbed that slender arm.

The woman's angry shriek broke off, and she snapped, "Let go! What are you doing to Chopper?" She shook wet tendrils of orange hair out of her eyes, ineffectually tried to wrench her wrist free of his grasp. "It's too wet out here to fight! And after we've been looking all over—"

He twisted her arm down, sharply, and she gasped, dropping to her knees. "Ow, Zoro, let go! That hurts—Zoro!"

His name sounded so strange from her mouth, as strange as it had been from the monster, and the sharpshooter. Little surprise that they knew him; most pirates did, and many would shout his name, in anger, in challenge, in fear. But not like any of this crew spoke it, so casually, insultingly familiar. It twisted his gut, to hear them say it, made him angry when he should be calm, when they weren't worth it.

He knew her, of course, pirate thief and navigator of Monkey D. Luffy's crew—he knew all of them; the Strawhat pirates were not so many, and to hunt a captain is to take on the captain's crew as well. They all were strong, but the only real fight he had expected had been from Nico Robin, and that had turned out frustratingly simple. The rest of them should have been easily dealt with; he had half-expected them not to even try—if they were smart they would have just run. But instead they all faced him, with that offensive fearlessness. Like he was no danger at all, not even strong enough to be a threat.

Why should he be? He had lost to their captain before, hadn't he?

His teeth clenched so hard they ground together, and his fists tightened, around the katana's hilt and the woman's wrist, cutting her yelp short. She shook her head sharply twice, mute, but her lips were shaping his name still, as he raised the sword. Her face turned up to his was gray-white in the night, sheened with rain, and now, at last, he saw the fear coming over it, so slowly, as it had so slowly come into the sniper's eyes, and the monster's—

The monster was there. "Horn point!" he cried, and reared up before the hunter, the antlers on his head spreading like an oak's branches, crashing toward him. Zoro released the woman, swung up the sword with both hands to block that rack, his boots skidding on the wet street at the impact.

"Nami," the monster shouted, pressing forward with his antlers, "get out of here! I'll take care of Usopp; just run!"

"Chopper?" the woman gasped, scrambling to her feet, slipping in her mud-coated sandals. "What do you mean—" She looked toward the alcove, the shadows within, and her eyes widened. " _Usopp_!"

Zoro braced his shoulders and threw off the locked antlers with one mighty heave, then stabbed his sword forward before it could be parried. But the monster shrank to a child's size to avoid the blade, then expanded into his nearly-human shape to swing a wild punch. The hunter didn't bother to dodge, just caught the hammering fist on his raised forearm. Strong, this monster, but he had fought far worse.

He spun the sword around, the flat of the blade sending the monster flying back into the brick behind them. Before he hit, he changed again, fur bursting out like a puffball dandelion to bounce harmlessly off the wall. The hunter slashed at him, but his sword only slid through the fur, encountering no resistance.

It was difficult to see in the darkness, and the rain confused him; he didn't realized that whistling was more than wind until the split second before the staff hit. He ducked, but not enough; the metal rod cracked him sharply across the crown. As the woman wheeled the staff around, he glimpsed her face, still white, mouth pressed in a grim line. He drew his second katana to parry her next blow, fighting dizziness as he staggered back under her assault and the monster's.

The antlers vanished, and he pressed that advantage, crossing both swords to catch the woman's staff between the blades and flipping it out of her hands. It clanked on the cobblestones in three pieces, and he brought his swords to bear on the monster. But the monster had changed again—"Arm point!" and he slammed forward two hooves into Zoro's chest, throwing him against a building. The brick fractured around him, and he nearly lost his grip on his swords.

Shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears, the hunter pushed off the damaged wall. The woman had retrieved her staff, raised it before her, but the monster shoved her urgently. "No, just get away! I've only got a minute left—I'll run, too; he can only follow one of us!"

She stared at him, then Zoro, then nodded and took off without looking back. Before he could pursue, the great antlers parried the swords, catching his rush in their forest. Bone creaked as horn met blade. They disengaged, clashed again, and the point of one antler sheared off with a sickening crack, drawing blood as it shot past his cheek.

As he smashed both swords forward a third time, the monster shrank to that small shape again, so suddenly that he overbalanced, stumbling forward. The little creature scampered between his legs, tripping him further, then transformed into a regular reindeer, spun on his hooves and ran—not fleeing, but darting for the alcove.

"Jump point!" the monster cried. Changing once more, he heaved his wounded crewmate over one man-like shoulder and sprang high into the air. His hooves clattered on the wooden sill over the alcove, and then he jumped higher, landed on the roof and leapt again.

Zoro narrowed his eyes as he wiped his cut cheek, smearing his blood with the rain. Sheathing one sword, he ripped off the rain cloak entangled around his shoulders, and launched himself after them.


	6. Chapter 6

Nami fell twice as she ran, bruised her knees and scraped her palms raw catching herself, and the stitch in her side was so sharp every breath felt like a nail puncturing her belly, and still it took concerted effort to stop herself from running.

No footsteps behind her; no one following. Nami put her hands to the solid brick building before her, let her head hang down as she gasped for breath. The rain ran off her hair, streaked her face.

Her wrist throbbed where Zoro had grabbed her; were it not so dark she was sure she would see the mark of his fingers imprinted on her flesh. She felt like her face had been branded as well, burned by his eyes. She had seen that look in them before—but not when he was looking at her, not when he looked at any of them.

When she first had seen them she had thought it was a mistake, in the confusion of the darkness and the rain. At worse some stupid misunderstanding, like Whiskey Peak, though she'd had a hard time imagining what could compel Chopper to attack Zoro.

—Usopp, lying in the shadows, and had that dark stain been blood? Because if it was, that much... How had he been hurt? It couldn't possibly have been...even if he had raised the sword, staring down at her, and she had seen nothing in his eyes but...

Nami rubbed her wrist, scraping her fingers hard against her wet skin, as if she could wipe away that touch. It wasn't the slight pain; there was no real damage, and she had taken far worse before. But Zoro had never hurt her even slightly—Luffy might accidentally poke harder than he intended, forgetting not everyone was made of the same rubber as himself; but Zoro was always aware of his own monstrous strength.

It was so easy to forget it, when you were tripping over his snoring form on the deck, or breaking up yet another of his eternal squabbles with Sanji, that this was Roronoa Zoro, with a bounty on his head three times that of Arlong, a man who had been called a demon. It had always seemed one step away from a joke, the same riddle as her own, and Luffy was the punch line, of course. See the pirate thief, now become a pirate; see the pirate hunter, now become a pirate.

Now hunting again. Nami recognized the eyes of a predator.

Her fingers curled around the cold wet metal of her Clima-Tact. She wasn't prey. None of them were and she should go back. She shouldn't have listened to Chopper and run in the first place, but what choice had she had? The two of them together were no match for Zoro, with his incredible strength and endless training and impossible determination. The pirate hunter, and they were pirates, after all.

"Like riding a bicycle, huh? I guess you never forget." Her laughter in the rain sounded hollow to her own ears. False. She stopped it. Nami didn't lie to herself. She had decided on that rule a long time ago; it had been the only way she could be sure of who she was, when she was lying to everyone else.

But Zoro didn't lie, any more than Luffy ever did. All this time as their crewmate, that could not be untrue. Not Zoro, who had protected her in Alubarna, who had taken his sword in his mouth and his life in his hands to fight Arlong alongside the others, for her sake and the sake of all she loved. She knew deception; she knew evil. She knew Zoro, for all that she hadn't recognized that predator's glare.

And Luffy knew good, and Luffy had chosen Zoro, the first of them all. Bounty hunter or not, there was no way Zoro would turn on them, not for any offered price.

Which meant something else was wrong.

Nami pushed herself off the wall, ran her fingers through her hair to comb away the water and drew her poncho's hood over her head. Three days he had been missing, and a frisson coursed down her spine that had nothing to do with the rain's chill. What had happened to him? Why was he doing this? And most crucially, how were they supposed to fix it?

First things first. Prioritize, Nami. The hunter must be stopped, before he hurt someone—before he hurt someone else, she corrected herself grimly, and sent a silent thought toward Chopper. _You said you'd take care of Usopp; I'm counting on you._

Usually, in a situation this bad, she would be looking for Zoro—because as big an idiot as he could be, when there was danger, he could be counted on. That was what he was there for. No matter how terrible the situation, she would feel safer with him...

She and Chopper and Usopp weren't strong enough. Robin would have an advantage, but maybe not enough of one; Sanji—it would be close, but she couldn't be sure. There was only one she could be certain of, be as absolutely confident as she had to be, under these circumstances.

Luffy did not fail them. Not when there was so much at stake; he wouldn't fail them, _couldn't_ , no more than he could swim

She didn't know where their captain was, but Robin might have some idea, if Luffy perhaps had checked back with her—no guarantee, but it was her best chance. Nami pressed her hand to her side; the stitch was almost gone, and she had caught her breath. Turning once in the street to get her bearings, she set her shoulders against the rain now dashing in long slanting arrows, and sprinted for the harbor.

 

* * *

 

Chopper sprang down from the rooftops seconds before the rumble ball's effects wore off and he lost the agility of Jump Point, then ran several more blocks in his man shape before slowing to a walk. His legs were trembling with the exertion—he was shivering, even as he panted from the run. The rain sluiced the foam of sweat off his fur; his poncho was wrapped around Usopp to cut the worst of the water and wind.

Squinting with his human eyes, he peered up and down the street. Meanwhile Usopp beat on his chest frantically with an open palm. "What are you doing? Don't stop! Keep running!"

"I don't see him! Maybe we lost him?"

"He could be up on a roof! Run!"

"But if we lost him," Chopper stammered, "he might—what if he goes after Nami?"

"Nami can—she can—" Usopp was shivering, too. Chopper carefully shifted his crewmate to cradle him in his arms for warmth, tucking both their ponchos around him tighter. "She runs fast, too—she got away."

Chopper checked the street again—still empty, and he picked up to a jog, tilting his head back to look at the rooftops. A whimper escaped Usopp's throat at the jarring gait, but he swallowed it. The blood had stopped soaking through the bandages, at least, though his face was gray.

"What if he finds everyone else?" Chopper asked. "What—what if he's already..." But they were strong; all his crewmates were so strong. If he had been able to defend himself, they all would be able to.

There were no shadows moving on the roofs, and Chopper wondered if they could risk stopping. He wasn't sure where to go—back to the ship might not be safe, not if Zoro followed them there. He couldn't see the swordsman now, but their shouting might have been overheard.

He wondered if he might be faster than Zoro, if he wasn't carrying Usopp. If Zoro was busy hunting _him_ , then Nami would be okay, and the others. And all he would have to do was run. Maybe he could hide Usopp—

"Chopper. _Chopper_." Chopper started, belatedly realizing he had already heard his name called a couple times. Usopp awkwardly reached up to pat him on the chest. "Don't cry, it's okay. Don't cry."

"I'm not," Chopper sniffled, blinking hard to clear his eyes of rainwater, since he had no free hand to wipe them.

"It'll b-be okay," Usopp said, though his teeth chattered and his voice was thready with pain. He had used up all the fear-induced adrenaline shrieking earlier; now he curled shivering in Chopper's arms, his eyes half-open and glassy. "It'll all be fine."

Chopper stopped. He was standing in a puddle up to his ankles, mud caking on his fur and dragging his steps. "No," he said. "No, it won't be—don't lie, Usopp." Everyone always told him Usopp lied, but usually he couldn't tell, not like he could now. "You're hurt, and Zoro—Zoro is h-hunting us..." He had been lying, too; he had thought it was just the rain in his eyes, but now he could taste the salt in the tears dribbling down to his mouth.

"That wasn't Zoro," Usopp said.

"But you—you saw him. I did!"

"It wasn't him." With noticeable effort Usopp firmed his voice. "Why would Zoro try to—to _hurt_ us? He wouldn't; you know he wouldn't."

Chopper gulped. "He—he hates us. When he looked at me—he w-wanted—"

"Zoro doesn't hate us," Usopp said. "He's our nakama. So that can't be him."

"But it was him. It looked just like him..." Chopper stiffened in shock. "Unless—it was someone—"

"—who looks just like him. But isn't."

"You mean, like Mr. Two, Bon Clay?"

Usopp shook his head. "Not him, he's a friend now. But somebody like him—maybe someone else ate that fruit. Or it's something else. Like...Zoro has a twin brother. Or...or it's someone who can make us see things. And they want us to be upset, because we think we're betrayed." His voice was petering out, head sagging heavily against Chopper's shoulder. "But we won't be. 'Cause we know that's not Zoro. Right?"

"R-right!" Straightening his shoulders, Chopper grimaced determinedly, trudging a few more paces through the mud, then stopped again as something else occurred to him. "Usopp?"

"Yeah?"

"If that guy isn't really Zoro, then...where _is_ Zoro?"

"Uh." Usopp frowned. "Maybe someone else found him—"

"Shh," Chopper hissed suddenly, squeezing his crewmate's shoulder to silence him. He had—not seen, not more than the briefest hint out of the corner of his eye—but sensed something, above them. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, but the thick clouds still blocked the moonlight.

Usopp must have realized what the hushing meant; he struggled in Chopper's arms, trying to look around. "What? Is he back? Is he—"

"I don't know." Chopper's nose was stuffy with the rain and crying; he couldn't smell anything. But his wet fur stood on end with his natural instincts for a predator. Backing up a couple steps, he scanned the silhouettes of the rooftops against the sky. "Maybe we should—"

"—run!" Usopp agreed, and Chopper pelted down the street. He glanced back over his shoulder as he did, searching for any motion to confirm that uneasy feeling in his gut.

Occupied as he was looking up at the roofs, he didn't hear the splashing footsteps until it was too late. At Usopp's frightened yelp Chopper twisted back around, only to run headlong into the dark figure emerging from the alley before them.


	7. Chapter 7

Robin wasn't on the docks. Nami wouldn't have expected her to be waiting out there all this time—but the Going Merry was dark, no lantern in the crow's nest, or shining through any porthole.

Robin would have a light; if she were onboard she would be reading, as always. Nami shook her head. _No_ —it shouldn't have shocked her, she should have been prepared for it; but she wasn't thinking this through. They were all pirates, all his prey, and Robin had a bounty. She might have been his first target, even. Her heart pounding in her chest, Nami ran down the docks, shouting Robin's name. There was no answer.

The rain drummed down, churning the sea. It was only by chance that before reaching the Merry she spotted the curve of white in the dark waves lapping at the docks. Squinting through the downpour, Nami jogged down to the end of the pier, until she was close enough to recognize that shape. "Oh no—"

Tearing off her poncho and kicking off her sandals, she dove into the sea. Five strokes brought her to Robin's side. Her crewmate was unconscious, her head fallen back, tipped up toward the sky with the rain sweeping her black hair back from her face. Somehow she had managed to force one hand under the thick mooring ropes, securely enough that it couldn't slip. But the pier was too high here to climb back onto, and mostly submerged she would have lacked the strength to pull herself up with her power, so she hung limply from her arm into the water, her head just above the surface.

Her skin was cold to the touch, as chill as the rain. Bobbing with the swells as she treaded water, Nami slapped Robin's cheek, to no response. A wave dashed her in the face; Nami spat out the seawater, then clung to the pier's post, nails sinking into the slimy soft wood, and wrenched Robin's wrist free of the ropes. Drawing the other woman's arm over her shoulders, Nami started swimming back to the shoreline, pulling her crewmate along. Robin's limp body dragged in the water, the ocean eager to pull her down.

At the inner end of the pier the docks came down to the water. With the help of the waves' swell, Nami shoved Robin up onto the planking, then heaved herself up as well. Dripping cold seawater, she hardly felt the rain beating down. She slapped Robin again, harder, yelling her name, until her crewmate coughed, dark eyes rolling open. "N-navigator-san?"

"Oh thank goodness." Nami rocked back on her heels, crossed her arms over her head to briefly shelter her face from the rain. Her chest ached, and the heavy saltiness of the sea burned her tongue. "Robin, was it—did Zoro did this?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. She blinked up through the rain at Nami, explained, "I realized something was wrong, but I miscalculated rather b-badly."

Robin's teeth were chattering, her eyes unfocused. She need to be dry and warm. Nami looked around the dark docks—the Going Merry was a long way down the pier, and it wouldn't be safe. First place Zoro would look, if he...she shook her head sharply. There was a storage shed at their end of the dock. Nami wrapped her arm around Robin's shaking shoulders and dragged her upright, assisted by several convenient hands. Her crewmate leaned on her heavily as they navigated the slippery walk to the shed, where Nami picked the padlock in four seconds and let them in.

A wide barrel provided a seat for Robin. In the dimness Nami just made out a lantern hanging from the ceiling; she unhooked it and felt for the matches tucked conveniently under the base. Her hands were shaking, but she had enough experience working in the dark that she had it lit in no time.

Its wavering luminance revealed a pile of rough blankets in one corner. Robin, already stripping off her soaked shirt and jeans, gladly accepted the wool covers and set to toweling herself dry. Nami helped, wrapping a smaller blanket around her dripping hair. When she set her hands on Robin's shoulders she could feel the older woman shiver through the heavy blankets. "How long were you in the water?"

"Since sundown," Robin said, still stuttering a little with chills, but her voice was calm. "I'm not sure what t-time it is now."

"And it was Zoro. Zoro attacked you, and if you hadn't managed to grab onto that rope, you could've..." Robin's wrist was bruised, an uneven band of purple where the thick cord had bit into her skin. On her other arm Nami noticed a long cut, white around the edges, the water having washed away the blood. It didn't look deep, but a score that clean and straight would almost certainly be from a sword. "He was serious—he was really trying to kill you, just like any bounty hunter—"

A slender arm reached from behind Nami and pulled one of the blankets up around her shoulders. "Dry yourself off," Robin instructed, kindly.

Nami felt herself shaking. With effort she stilled the tremors, drew the blanket closer around herself and vigorously rubbed her shirt dry . Hypothermia was the last thing she needed. "Robin," she asked, sinking down next to her crewmate on the barrel, "have you ever heard of—I don't know, something that makes you forget? Maybe a special rain," and she glanced at the shed's shuttered window, the rain rattling against the slats. "Something that takes away memories, so you might forget who you are..."

"There are stories," said Robin slowly. "The river Lethe, which flows with the water of forgetfulness...but I've never heard any unusual legends about this island."

"So maybe that idiot just got hit too hard on the head, and now he thinks he's still a pirate hunter and doesn't remember us."

"He recognized me."

Nami frowned. "But he would, right? As a pirate hunter, he might have known who you are. He knew Baroque Works..." It made as much sense as anything. Except for his eyes, watching her—there had been recognition, and why would the Pirate Hunter Zoro know her, when she had no bounty?

"He asked for my captain," Robin told Nami. She spoke carefully, gently. "I believe he wasn't hunting me at all, but him."

"Luffy?" And that didn't make sense, either; Luffy's infamy hadn't been earned until long after Zoro had joined him. "But he wouldn't...why would he want Luffy?"

"Monkey D. Luffy's head would be a prize to any bounty hunter. Especially to a man with such great aspirations."

"Yes, but—Zoro's not a bounty hunter anymore. And I know he says that's all that matters to him, becoming the greatest, but..." Nami knew betrayal intimately. Almost as well as Robin did, maybe, and Nami understood how difficult it made it to trust anyone, when you knew no one should rightfully trust you.

But Zoro had trusted her. Zoro had known her too well, well enough to throw his life, with all his so-precious ambitions, into her hands. Such a stupid thing to do; all she would have had to do was nothing at all, and he would have drowned in Arlong Park—but he had trusted her, so stupidly, and rightfully, too. Better dead, than to be betrayed—it wasn't even that he _wouldn't_ betray them; he couldn't. Betrayal wasn't in Zoro, wasn't any part of his self. "Do you really believe Zoro would do this, Robin? Willingly attack all of us, for no reason but ambition?"

The older woman hesitated. "I don't want to."

"But you really think he might? _Can_ you believe it?"

Robin didn't reply for a long moment, entirely still, one hand paused in midair, suspended rising to her face. "No," she said at last, brushing a few stray strands of black hair from her eyes. "No, I can't. But he didn't appear confused; he seemed fully aware of what he was doing, and doing it willingly."

Nami remembered those hunter's eyes—no, he hadn't faltered, as absolutely certain as he ever was. Few men, pirates or bounty hunters or anyone else, had Zoro's utterly sure convictions, and the resolution in his face had been too terrifying to have been faked.

But if it wasn't an accident or a mistake; if this were something deliberate—then it wasn't Zoro at all. "Oh good god...what was _done_ to him? Who did this to him?" There was one hope—if it were, not something, but someone, and they could discover who was responsible, it surely could be fixed. There must be a way. "We need to find Luffy."

Robin nodded. "If he is the main target, Captain-san must be warned—"

"That too, but mostly because he'll be able to stop Zoro. And then we can figure this out. You don't know where Luffy is, do you?"

"I'm afraid not." Robin pushed herself to her feet, only to sink down onto the barrel again immediately, her face pale. "Navigator-san, I think if I accompanied you now I'd only be a hindrance—"

"You stay here," Nami ordered, "until you're feeling better. I'll be all right." She stood herself, shrugged off the blanket and spread it to dry over a pile of fishing tackle. Looking around the small shed, she asked, "You're sure you will be? Alone in here?"

Robin extended an arm from the lantern, turned down the oil to extinguish the flame. Through the consequent blackness she said, "No one will find me here. As soon as I'm feeling well enough I'll follow you."

"All right." Nami felt her way to the door, grasped the handle and looked back. In the shadows Robin was no more than the faintest gleam of blue eyes. "Robin," Nami asked, and her voice trembled slightly, as if she were still a little girl afraid of the dark.

"Yes?"

Nami shook her head sharply, casting aside that tremor. "Just—if there's anything you can think of, like—I don't know, a poison, or possession, or anything that could make someone... Anything you've ever heard of, anything at all, even if it's crazy, try to think of what it could be."

"I will, Navigator-san," Robin promised, and closed the door behind her.

The rain had slowed to a cold drizzle. Nami trudged down the docks to collect her poncho and sandals where she had thrown them aside, and headed back into the muddy streets.

 

* * *

 

Over the rain he wasn't sure if he were actually hearing voices or not, but he still picked up the pace, cut down the alley and came out on the next street over just in time to be flattened by a hundred-plus kilos of crewmate. Chopper managed to keep his footing, but Sanji was knocked to the ground, mud splattering on his last square centimeter of clean suit. "Watch where you're going!" he yelled as he squelched back to his feet, ineffectually brushing at his slacks. "Damn snowmonster, I still have that a venison recipe—"

He stopped. Chopper had backed up, hunching protectively over the pile of ponchos in his arms. Under the brim of his hat his eyes were huge and round.

"Chopper?" Sanji frowned at him, then realized that bundle of ponchos had arms and legs and curly black hair under the hood. "Usopp?"

"S-sanji?" Chopper stuttered, staring at him with a timidity more like a wild deer's than a thinking being's, for all his shape was human. "Is—is it you, really, or somebody else?"

"Huh?" Not just timidity. Terror, like he was on the verge of bolting. "Who else do you mean?" Dammit, Chopper was actually quivering under the misty haze of raindrops hitting his fur. In the reindeer-man's large arms, Usopp turned his head to look at Sanji with that same wild-eyed dread. The cook blinked at the both of them curiously. "What? Has all this damn rain leaked into your brains?"

"If—if it's not you—if you're going to—" Chopper was bracing himself, either to flee or to charge; Sanji wasn't sure which, and didn't get it either way.

"What the hell?" Maybe the rain really was getting to the reindeer. He had been out in it all day, after all. Sanji shifted his unlit cigarette to the side of his mouth, raised his hands placatingly. "It's me, I'm pretty sure. Usopp, what happened? You twist your ankle?"

Chopper shook his head hard. Usopp's mouth worked to make something that ended up looking more like a grimace than a smile. "No...just...nothing much," he answered, but it was so hoarse and weak it hardly sounded like his voice at all. When he coughed it rattled in his chest, more than just a touch of chill, and the spasm of pain which crossed his face was obvious even in the shadows.

Frowning, Sanji crossed to them in two long strides and, before Chopper could stop him, flipped up the ponchos draped over Usopp. He was expecting—something, but as his eyes traced the extent of the dark stains on the bandages Sanji had sudden, grim insight into the doctor's agitation. His teeth gritted around his cigarette. "What is this?" Usopp sure as shit hadn't gotten that slipping in a puddle. "Who did this?"

"He looked like Zoro," Chopper said.

" _Zoro_?" Sanji repeated. "What the hell was he doing, trying a four-sword technique and slipped? Were you guys trying to dye his hair red again? Or did that stupid swordsman mistake you for a Marine?" At least they had found the idiot—though where was he now? If Usopp had accidentally gotten in the way of one of his blades—it wasn't like Zoro to screw up that badly, but in this damn downpour you were half-blind anyway—

"No, he did it on purpose," Chopper said.

Sanji jerked up his head, stared at him. Usopp, still sounding too damn weak, said, "But it wasn't really him."

Chopper nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't. But it was a guy who looked just like Zoro and sounded just like him and smelled just like him, which is why I didn't know if it was really you. We were running from him—he's really strong, Sanji. Just like Zoro is."

"So there's another shit shapechanger around? Or something like it?" Sanji glanced at Usopp, worrying at the damp cigarette in his mouth. "I hope Nami-san and Robin-chan are all right..."

"Nami's okay," Chopper said. "He attacked her, but she got away."

"What? He attacked Nami-san?! Zoro, you bastard!!"

"It's not Zoro!" Chopper's voice quivered, his throat thick. "Zoro _wouldn't_ —it's not him."

"Right, right," Sanji said. "Of course not." Usopp wasn't saying anything, and Sanji didn't like the liar's silence. He was awake, his eyes mostly open. Maybe he just didn't have anything to say, though that had never stopped him before. "Usopp, if you fought this guy—"

"I didn't," Usopp said, not looking at Sanji. He sounded out of breath, too, like he had been the one running. "Chopper did. I didn't...it looked just like him. But...wrong. It wasn't him."

"He doesn't know everything Zoro does, I don't think," Chopper said. "He didn't recognize me, exactly. I mean, he did, but... It was like he knew who we were, but not _us_."

"He wanted Luffy," Usopp said suddenly. "He asked me...the way he said it, I should've known, but..."

"If he's after Luffy," Sanji said, "maybe we should warn him first." Chopper nodded gravely, and Sanji suggested, "How about you look for Luffy, then, and I'll make sure Robin-chan is okay—"

"You can't!" said Chopper—not the usual outraged wail when he was going to be abandoned to something scary, but a barely whispered whimper. "Please, if he comes back—"

"All right," Sanji said, "all right, we stick together." He was used to Chopper's bouts of faint-hearted nerves, always figured they had more to do with his species than his indomitable will, but there was a note to the doctor's fear now that set Sanji himself on edge, a desperation he wasn't accustomed to.

He gestured to the bundle of crewmate in Chopper's arms. "But first, shouldn't we get him inside? At least out of this rain?"

Usopp blinked, opened his eyes wide with what was clearly a struggle. "M'okay."

Sanji eyed him askance. "Liar."

"There's no houses around here open," Chopper said. "Besides, if we left him alone, and...that guy who isn't Zoro...if he found him..."

"Got it." Sanji looked around at the dark buildings. "So what do we..."

Usopp must have felt Chopper tense at the same moment Sanji noticed his fur bristling, because they asked simultaneously, "What?"

"I think..." Chopper lifted his head, the rain streaming off his hat's brim. His blue nose twitched. "He's coming. Zoro, or... Over there," and he inclined his head toward the west end of the street. "Somewhere close."

He was shivering again, he and Usopp both. Sanji put a hand on the doctor's heavy, furred arm, gave him a shove toward the closest building. "Go get under the eaves. It'll be a little less wet. I'll go check on this."

"S-sanji," Chopper said, dark eyes still wide. "Be careful."

"I'll be fine." Shifting aside his poncho to stick his hands in his pockets, Sanji strode down the street, not bothering to tread quietly through the puddles. His slacks were already soaked through anyway; a few more splashes wouldn't be noticed.

At the end of the block he caught motion on the rooftop out of the corner of his eye, tilted back his head and squinted through the drizzle at that dark shadow. "Hey, you. Who's there?"

The shadow lightly leapt down, landed square in the road in front of him and straightened upright. His white shirt was plastered to his body with the rain, the black bandana dripping. He had a katana in one hand, water flowing down the long blade, and two more sheathed at his hip.

It sure as hell looked like Zoro, down to the glitter of gold on his ear and the feral confidence of his smirk. Sanji kept his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he chewed on his soggy cigarette. "So," he asked around it casually, "are you the imposter, or the genuine asshole?"


	8. Chapter 8

It looked like Zoro; it sounded like him, when he spoke. "More of his crew."

But that was a stupid thing even for the idiot swordsman to say, and the look in his eyes as he studied Sanji was wrong—too sharp, too wary. The imposter, then. No wonder Chopper and Usopp had been freaked; it was a damn good job of it. Even the equanimity in his tone was Zoro's, that vaguely irritated endurance. As if Sanji hardly registered as even an annoyance, and as with the real Zoro it didn't fail to piss him off, as the swordsman went on, "You don't know where your captain is either, or you won't tell me if you do, right? So just get out of my way."

"What's the matter?" Sanji spoke casually, but kept an eye on the imposter's sword. No chance this guy could fight as well as the real thing, but he knew something about what he was doing, to tell by the sure stability of his stance. "The guy you're pretending to be isn't afraid to fight me."

"Eh?" The look-alike frowned, shifting his weight back a step. To the untrained eye he would have looked like he was standing down; but Sanji, watching the steady blade tilt a fraction, braced himself. "Just who am I pretending to be?"

He sounded mildly curious, not challenging. Sanji tipped his unlit cigarette at the katana in the swordsman's hand and those at his hip. "Three swords? Black bandana? Awfully uncreative style. Or are you just the first and only member of the Roronoa Zoro fanclub?"

"I am Roronoa Zoro."

Which was the obvious response, but the way he said it was—wrong, completely wrong, because he sounded so absolutely sure. "Oh, yeah?" Sanji asked coolly. "Then who am I, Roronoa Zoro?"

"You're Monkey D. Luffy's ship's cook," the swordsman said, his voice dropping into an aggravated growl. "And the monster you're shielding is the crew's doctor, with the sniper. If he's still alive."

Sanji glanced behind him—Chopper was far down the street, huddled under a house's low-hanging eaves, his bulk barely visible in the darkness. _Run away, idiot_ , Sanji wanted to say, but who knew what this guy would do if he tried...

Then Chopper cried out, and Sanji spun back in time to see the katana stabbing forward. He leapt out of the way of that lunge, threw a kick that the other man easily dodged. "Some swordsman," Sanji snarled. "Attacking an opponent's back."

"You?" the look-alike answered. "You're not my opponent. You're just in my way. It's your captain I want."

"So why attack them?" Sanji jerked his head back toward his crewmates. "Just for fun?"

"I don't have any reason to fight unbountied pirates, no matter what kind of monsters you are. But alive they're in my way; they'd warn him or defend him if they could. And so would you—or do you want to leave now?"

"You mean if I just walked away, you'd let me? Off the pirate hunter's hook, and all I have to do is abandon this crew?" Sanji's eyes narrowed. "Like hell. Like hell you're Zoro—even that dumbass would never make such a shit-stupid offer as that." Throwing himself forward, he planted his hands on the muddy cobblestone and launched a double kick at the swordsman's head.

The swordsman evaded in a dizzying spin, and Sanji somersaulted out of the katana's arc as the man drew his second blade. The first sword swept back like a scythe, and Sanji twisted to slam the hard heel of his shoe against the flat of the blade. He diverted the blow, but the swordsman didn't lose his grip, and then the second sword was there, almost too swift to dodge.

The guy was good. Rolling out of the strike, Sanji sprang back to his feet, wiped mud from his eyes. The second katana wasn't just for show; this man's two-sword technique was better than his single. As the blades flashed toward him, Sanji crouched, waiting until the last instant to spring into the air, over the blades and the charging swordsman's head. He touched down on his toes like a dancer and kicked out, aiming for the small of the swordsman's back. But the other man caught the blow on his forearm, meeting the full force of the kick although it should have snapped his bone, then continued bringing his arm back to ram the katana's hilt into Sanji's stomach.

Sanji lurched back, caught himself before he hit the wall and straightened up, ignoring the bruising. Didn't feel like he had broken anything, but he needed a second to get his wind back. "You're pretty good for a shit copycat," he panted. "Master another sword and people might buy you're Zoro."

"I am Zoro." The swordsman slashed both katana forward—perfectly timed; an instant to slow or too fast and the blades would have clanged against each other. Sanji threw himself backwards to avoid that deadly cross, almost losing his footing in the mud. The guy was _too_ good. The next swing was lightning-fast; if instinct hadn't prompted Sanji to dodge left at the last second, rather than right as he had been intending, it would have cut more than a few strands of hair.

Something strange about that, that Sanji had guessed at all—the swordsman's skill was undeniable but his style was all over the damn place, completely unpredictable. Except when he slashed the blades around so fast they blurred in the darkness, halting their momentum with brute strength an instant before they torqued back and cut him—Sanji had seen that move before, knew it would finish with an unexpected, lethal double stab. He avoided it without thinking, slipping between the two blades, so close a space that they sliced his suit front and back, but only fabric, not skin. Cartwheeling over, he whipped up his leg to catch the swordsman across the chin, knocking him back.

"So," Sanji said, landing on his feet as the swordsman staggered and regained his balance. "You're Zoro. So Zoro is a backstabbing bastard who'd murder his own crewmates and hunt his own captain for—what? A few million beri? Or the reputation? Or you just got bored with being a pirate?"

"I'm no pirate," the swordsman said, wiping his chin with one fist as he spat blood.

"Little behind on the times, huh, you shit copycat?" Sanji dug out a cigarette, wondering if the rain had let up enough for him to light it. "Or are you telling me it was all a ruse? You've just been pretending all this time? Go ahead, try to sell me that one. Like that stupid swordsmaster is that good an actor."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," growled the swordsman.

The matches in his pocket were wet; the wax box had split open. Sanji grimaced, cast the cigarette to the ground. "Roronoa Zoro is one of Luffy's crew, you dumb son of a bitch."

The shadowed eyes under the bandana narrowed to slits. "You are crazy, you damn cook. Like hell I'd ever become a pirate. And I'd never be one of you—I'd never be under that monster. One of Monkey D. Luffy's crew? I'd cut out my tongue before I'd say 'yes' to his command."

Sanji stared. "What the hell—" and then the swordsman attacked, a double whirlwind of steel. Sanji feinted right, dodged to the left instead—he'd been careless; there was a brick wall behind him. No good, letting himself get cornered like that. But there was something distracting about the swordsman's assaults...an incompleteness, like a key ingredient missing in a sauce. Poised still for an instant, Sanji took that fraction of a second to study the wildly fast strike driving toward him—unpredictable, yet there was a certain pattern to it. But the pattern was off somehow.

At the last moment Sanji threw himself out of the way, rolled to his feet and struck out with his fastest kicks—not strong enough to be effective; the swordsman blocked them all, but the flurry put him briefly on the defensive. And Sanji, studying that defense as he struck blow after blow, saw the same thing he seen in the swordsman's attacks—not quite a flaw, but more than the eccentricities of his weird style—

Focused as he was on the movement of the blades, he nearly missed the swordsman's sudden curse. Then the man, swords raised, dashed past him, and Sanji spun around to see Chopper had retreated down the street, was almost turning the corner. The reindeer froze, however, when he saw the hunter diving for him, unable to fight back while holding Usopp.

"Stop!" Sanji yelled, and dove after the man. "You're fighting me, dammit!" Hurtling himself sideways, he slammed both feet into the swordsman's shoulders, plowing him through the shuttered windows of a single-story building.

As the rain settled the dust and splinters, Sanji climbed back to his feet, glanced at his crewmates. "Chopper, you okay? Because we've got a problem—"

Chopper cut him off with a hard shake of his head. "Sanji, we have to get back to the ship. Usopp, he's—"

"What?" The limp form in the doctor's arms wasn't moving, not even to shiver. "Usopp—"

"He won't wake up," Chopper said, too strained to even sound frightened. "And he's bleeding again. I need to—"

With a crack and a crash the swordsman hacked his way out of the broken wood and wall, ponderously shaking his head like a wounded bear before raising it to glare at them. He tensed, bracing to charge, his eyes fixed on Chopper.

Sanji stepped in front of his crewmates. "This is our battle, shit swordsman," he snarled, "don't get distracted."

"This is no battle," the swordsman spat back. "I don't care about fighting you at all."

Sanji met that glare, all cold anger, too controlled to be rage. "Chopper," he said, loudly and clearly, without looking back. "Get him out of here—go back to the ship, the fastest way possible. I'll catch up with you."

"Sanji—"

" _Go!_ "

Chopper whimpered something; then footsteps splashed as he started to run. Sanji didn't look back, attention focused on the hunter, watching the swordsman's eyes as he glanced from Sanji to his escaping prey.

Not even a quarter second of hesitation, but it was enough. Sanji leapt forward and kicked straight out—a hard, fast blow which the swordsman parried, but it drove him back a couple steps, against the broken wall.

Sanji used the momentum of the block to launch himself higher, then spun in the air, aiming not for the hunter, but the roof overhead. He brought his shoe down on the frame, and the wood cracked, then gave way. The clay tiles slid off in an avalanche, which the swordsman repelled, sweeping his swords to fracture them.

But it would occupy him for a few crucial seconds. And Chopper was out of sight. Sanji, balanced on the roof's corner, glanced down at the hunter. "Told you not to get distracted," he snapped, then dashed up the roof and skidded down the slope on the other side like an alpine skier. Dropping back to the street, he hit the cobblestone running.

The swordsman wasn't behind him. Sprinting down the alleys, Sanji made it back to the main streets and headed for the harbor. He caught up with Chopper in a couple minutes, ducked the wild punch the doctor swung in his direction without breaking stride. "It's me!"

"Ah—sorry," Chopper panted. Usopp was crooked awkwardly under his other large arm—hard to get a clear look at him in the dark, while running, but he didn't look conscious. He barely looked... "Sanji, where are we going?"

"Back to the ship," Sanji said. "He needs it, right?"

"But—that guy, he would've heard—"

"It's Zoro."

Chopper tripped, stumbling to a halt. The rain was picking up again, flattening down his fur. "But—it can't—it just looks like him—"

"I've fought a shapeshifter before," Sanji said. "He could look like us, but he could only fight as himself. But that guy," and he pointed his thumb behind them, "the way he uses those swords—that's how Zoro fights. The way that guy was fighting, his style, it was wrong. He was fighting with two swords, but he's more practiced fighting with three. He'd have fought best with three. He wasn't because the asshole wasn't taking us seriously. But Roronoa Zoro's the only man with that three-sword style. That was Zoro."

"But..." Chopper drew a shuddering breath. "So he really...Zoro really wanted to..."

"Maybe." Sanji frowned. "I don't know. He sure as hell wasn't sounding like himself. So maybe something else is going on." He gave Chopper a push to get him moving again. "Come on—the sooner we get back to the ship, the better." Robin-chan should be there. Safe. She better be. And he wanted out of this rain. Just the sound of it was driving him nuts, and his soaked suit was weighing him down, his waterlogged shoes like lead. Hard just to lift them, and his chest ached where he had taken the hit.

And Usopp wasn't moving. Sanji couldn't even see if he was breathing.

"Sanji," Chopper said, "if he knows we're going back to the Merry..."

Sanji grinned, though it felt wrong, crooked, like he couldn't get all of his mouth to go along with it. "Exactly," he said. "Because if that _is_ Zoro—that dumb lost idiot will never find us now." He smacked the doctor's broad shoulder. "So let's go."


	9. Chapter 9

Luffy ran down the streets at the edge of town. Here on the island's marshy shores opposite from the port, the buildings were little more than wood shanties, piles of sticks with leaking roofs patched with reeds and mud. The people dwelling here couldn't afford to flee the rain; he could feel their eyes watching him through cracks in the shutters.

Zoro wasn't any of them.

If someone had asked him how he knew, he wouldn't have been able to say. It wasn't that there was any reason or any way he should know. But Luffy didn't really consider possibilities; there was no 'Zoro might be here.' He wasn't. Luffy ran through the rainy streets anyway, occasionally calling his crewmate's name, even knowing there would be no answer.

It was like that day that Usopp had misplaced his wrench, of that exact particular size he needed to fine-tune his slingshot. The wrench was eventually located, slipped between two deck boards under his workbench, but before it was found he had searched the Going Merry from bow to stern, from the bilges to the icebox to the crow's nest. When he had started going through the drawers of Nami's desk, she had protested, "How would it have gotten there?"

But Usopp had kept opening the drawers and rifling through the papers, until Nami had yelled, "Why are you looking? It's not there!" and Usopp had yelled back, in a state of high dudgeon, "I know it's not, but it's the principle of the thing!"

Luffy searched now, pacing through the mud and darkness, not because Zoro was here, but because it was the principle of the thing.

A captain should know where his crew was. Luffy sometimes didn't know where exactly the ship was sailing—Nami explained it to him often enough, pointing on her charts, but maps were confusing; they never looked like the places they were supposed to be. That was okay, though, since she always could tell him where they were. But Nami's locations, those points on maps between intersecting lines, those weren't the important wheres anyway. The where that counted was _here_ , when he needed them, or when they needed him.

True, Zoro often enough didn't know where Zoro himself was, but that just made it all the more his captain's responsibility. And Zoro did know the where which mattered most, the one place he could get to without question: where he needed to be. Except now he was nowhere, not any place they went.

None of the others had found Zoro either. He had to be somewhere on the island, but wherever Luffy went, down muddy streets and under leaking roofs and along the swamped beach, the rain fell and darkness fell and Zoro still wasn't there.

A sharp wind blew off the sea, and Luffy clapped his hand over his hat before it whipped away with the rain. He wondered if Shanks had ever misplaced any of his men.

Obviously if he had, he would have found them. Only how did you do that? This wasn't hide and seek, no matter what Usopp had been joking with Chopper. It wasn't a game and it wasn't fun and Zoro didn't like playing hide and seek anyway.

Luffy got angrier, the more places he went that Zoro wasn't. He would beat up his swordsman when he found him, or if he didn't he would tear apart this whole town, because Zoro had to be in one of these tilting, tottering shanties. Nami had told him not to get into trouble, but Nami wanted to find Zoro, too, and if he demolished enough buildings Zoro would have to be there.

When Luffy came across the two ships docked in the cove, their masts hidden behind the low hills, he was in a bad enough mood that he almost charged down the slope and smashed his way aboard. But he stopped before he did to study them closer.

Nami, had she been around, would have been pleased by his carefulness; the trouble she had warned about was here, in the Marine emblem painted on the mainsail of the larger ship, a clipper about the size of the Going Merry. The other ship was a little single-sail vessel, only a step up from a raft. It looked deserted, but there were marines standing watch on the clipper's deck.

Zoro wasn't there, either. The marines hadn't captured him, that was plain enough; the ship was still floating. Of course there were powerful marines, Luffy considered uneasily. That Captain Smoker, he was awesomely strong. But if the marines had captured Zoro, why were they still here? Wouldn't they have wanted to take him back to a base, or else try to capture the rest of them? Robin and Luffy himself had higher bounties, too.

The marines might not be here for them at all. Maybe they were helping the people stuck in the rain, or maybe they had just stopped for supplies. Though why weren't they at the main port, then? The cove looked awfully shallow for the bigger ship. Would they risk beaching themselves just to hide from pirates? Marines weren't supposed to be afraid of pirates.

Something was wrong here. Luffy didn't know what it was, but he didn't like the feeling one bit. It wasn't just anger. The past few days had all sat uncomfortably in his stomach, like he had eaten meat gone bad. And it was worse now, though Sanji's supper had been as delicious as ever. After all that running around Luffy was hungry again, but that wasn't it, either.

Nami or the others might be able to figure it out. And Nami would want to know there were marines here—the others wouldn't care so much, but she was the one who liked knowing where things were. Especially things that might be trouble. Though there was enough trouble now that Luffy wondered if Nami herself could chart where all of it was.

He wanted to find Zoro. He wanted to find all the others now, wanted all his nakama back on the Merry. Then they could leave this island, and he would be certain where every one of them was.

But they hadn't found Zoro. It wouldn't be so simple. Luffy understood that much.

"If you guys did this, I'll kick your asses," Luffy promised the unaware marines, and headed back into town.

 

* * *

 

Usopp was having a nightmare, a particularly horrendous bad dream. In it he was running as hard as he could, until he was gasping for breath and his chest ached fiercely, and yet he wasn't getting anywhere. No matter how quickly he tried to go, his legs would barely move at all. And Zoro was right behind him, or something that looked like Zoro, Zoro with a single sword drawn and a terrible flat expression that wasn't even a frown, not even anger or hatred, just vague disgust, like he didn't care.

It was raining and Usopp ran and the thing that looked like Zoro was coming. Then he couldn't move at all, it was dark and his chest hurt worse than ever and there was a great huge shape looming over him. Except it spoke in a high and gentle voice, and he recognized Chopper. But Chopper was hurting him, too, though he begged him not to, Chopper didn't care, either.

There were hands on his shoulders, hands on his face, holding him still. He tried to struggle, but it hurt so much, and those hands wouldn't let him move. A cup was put to his mouth, liquid dribbling down over his closed lips. "Drink, you idiot," Sanji demanded, and Usopp smelled tobacco in the cloth his head was resting against, so it had to be the cook. Except Sanji's voice sounded wrong, all hoarse and almost breaking. "Come on, Usopp, open your mouth. It'll be good. Drink."

So he did, but Sanji had been lying; the drink was horrible and thick and bitter. He almost choked on it, tried to cough it up but the pain was too much. "Good," Sanji said, the liar. It was mean of him; Usopp was supposed to be telling lies, not listening to them. The hands were laying him down once more, pressing him flat. Chopper bent over his chest, and it felt like Zoro's sword was stabbing into him again, only worse. Usopp tried to ask him to stop, but Chopper wouldn't, though the doctor was mumbling, "I'm sorry it hurts, it will feel better soon, I'm sorry," and it sounded like he might be crying.

"That bastard, I don't believe—" he thought he heard Sanji say, and Chopper answered, but his voice was fading into unintelligibility, as if he were floating away. Gradually it seemed that everything was floating—or tilting, like the table he was lying on had been tipped up, and Usopp helplessly slid off it into blackness. But at least it wasn't raining anymore.

 

* * *

 

A while later Usopp realized he was lying at the bottom of a very deep pit. Above him he could hear voices—two familiar voices, arguing.

"I told you, no smoking!"

"I wasn't! I'm just holding it!"

"Then why did you just get out that match?"

"I didn't—Oh. Uh. Because—because the lamp was flickering, looks like it might go out."

"If you need a cigarette that bad, go outside."

"It's still a damn downpour out there."

"I don't care; you can't smoke in here with him!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, you damn reindeer-monster, I won't!" There was a thud and a crash as something—it sounded like a water barrel—got kicked into a wall. Then there was silence, filled by the rattling on the cabin roof. It was still raining after all.  
If he were on the Going Merry, he couldn't be in a hole. Even if it was so dark and his crewmates sounded so far away. Finally Chopper said, softly and miserably, "I'm sorry."

"I told you, I won't," Sanji said again sharply, and Usopp wondered what was wrong. The cook tended to be short-tempered anyway, but it got exponentially shorter the more stressed and anxious he was, and to be reaching that pitch with Chopper, Sanji must be downright scared.

Maybe Usopp was still dreaming. The last thing he remembered clearly was...Sanji, fighting, but not with Chopper, with...

No, that was only a nightmare, too. Usopp shook his head, or tried to, but just that merest motion sent a painful twinge through his chest. He had the feeling it would hurt more if he weren't so numb all over, and still it was enough that a groan squeaked out of his throat, just as Sanji was saying, quietly, "Sorry. I didn't mean—"

He broke off all of a sudden, his shoes drumming on the wooden floor. "Usopp?"

"Usopp?" Chopper asked, and through the numbing fog Usopp felt a hard hoof cautiously prod his arm. "Are you awake?"

Usopp wasn't quite sure if he was, at that. To check, he pried open his eyes, and found it wasn't so dark after all—but he might be in a hole all the same, the way Chopper and Sanji were leaning over, staring down at him. Chopper was smiling, and teary-eyed anyway; Sanji's grin was wide and a bit wild. "About damn time!"

They both looked so happy that Usopp thought their argument must have also been a dream. He tried to ask about it, but only managed a mumble so slurred even he wasn't sure what it was supposed to be.

"Does it hurt very much?" Chopper asked him anxiously. "We gave you something for the pain, but I couldn't risk anything too strong, but now that you're awake—"

That must be why he felt so foggy. "S'okay," Usopp said, blinking, and tried to sit up. He didn't make it more than a couple centimeters before both Sanji and Chopper reached to stop him, but by then he had already realized for himself what a bad idea it was. The drugs didn't make things nearly foggy enough. "Oww. Ow, ow, what happened—" He couldn't bend enough to see the bandages, but he didn't need to; their faces told him everything.

Not a nightmare after all. It hurt too sharply to be a dream. "It was—it was that thing...that looked like Zoro."

Sanji's jaw clenched, his hand balling into a fist. He looked like he badly wanted a smoke, which wasn't an expression Usopp was used to seeing Sanji make, since usually he had one; he looked bizarrely bereft without his cigarette. "No, that was Zoro. Whatever's wrong with the damn swordsman—he was no fake."

The cook explained, short and succinctly, finishing, "He said he was looking for Luffy, and we were just in the way. Which doesn't explain why the hell he almost..." Sanji broke off, sat down rather hard in the chair beside the table and covered his face with one hand. "Too damn close," he muttered, "what the hell was that bastard trying to do," but he sounded more weary than angry. "And Robin-chan's not here, either."

"Robin?" Usopp asked, hardly recognizing the weak croak that was his voice. It had really been Zoro, Zoro's sword, stabbing forward, and he hadn't hesitated at all; Zoro's eyes, that cold, unfeeling glare watching him fall.

"Robin was gone when we made it back to the ship," Chopper said. "We don't know where she went. But if..." He swallowed. "If Zoro came here first..."

Sanji brought down his hand. His face was colorless in the lamplight. "Robin-chan's so smart; she'd have realized something was wrong. Though I should've been here..." He shook his head. "Nami-san's not come back either, but she knows to be careful. But there's Luffy."

"If—if Zoro finds Luffy—" Chopper quavered.

Sanji gestured sharply. "He'll be fine. That idiot's definitely the strongest. But we should warn him. I could go—"

"But," Chopper said, "if he finds the ship now..." He looked down at his hooves. "It hasn't been six hours, I can't take another Rumble Ball yet." He looked to Usopp, as did Sanji, and it would have been funny, how exactly the same their worried expressions were, except that it was so mortifying to be the object of that worry.

"I'll be okay," Usopp said, quite certain he wouldn't be, but lying down like this maybe they wouldn't notice he was shaking. "If he—if Zoro comes back, we can just—my slingshot's right over there," and he tried to reach for his bag in the corner, but the movement sent a piercing pang through his chest, which set him coughing, each hack like another stab into his lungs.

"Sanji!" Chopper ordered, going large to hold him still, and Sanji was on his other side, sliding an arm under his shoulders to carefully sit him up. Usopp winced, trying not to whimper.

"Drink this," Sanji said, putting a cup to his lips. Usopp wrinkled his nose, mumbled, "Don't wanna," without opening his mouth; he remembered that bitter taste from before.

"It's just tea," Sanji said, "with a couple things Chopper had me add, but it tastes better this time. I made sure."

With Sanji's reputation as cook at stake, he didn't have much choice but to drink, and it was sweet, hot and much more palatable. Usopp swallowed most of it, while Sanji said over his head, to Chopper, "It wouldn't be a good idea to move him, would it?"

The reindeer, small again, shook his head. "No, but...if Zoro does come here..."

"I know, I know."

Usopp made an effort to sit further up, biting his lip to keep from crying out again. He managed with Sanji's help to get mostly upright. "I—I'll be okay," he said again, insistently. "I can go with you." He tasted blood where he had bit too hard, and the room was spinning slowly around him, but some of the dizziness might just be Chopper's medicine.

"Maybe if we brought him elsewhere?" Sanji suggested, talking over him like he wasn't even there. Usopp would have protested but it was taking all he had to keep vertical, leaning heavily against Sanji's side. His crewmate seemed the only solid thing in the room; the rest of the cabin was rocking like they were in a typhoon, though neither Sanji nor Chopper noticed. "There's plenty of empty houses," the cook said, "we can break into one, put him to bed, you could keep watch on him and I could look for—Chopper?"

"Break into..." Chopper's eyes were huge, round and shining. "I—how could I forget that? What happened to him—"

"What happened to who?" Sanji asked, quick but calmly.

"Zoro. I—I found him. No, not him," and Chopper shook his head hard. "But—I forgot, I forgot all about it, but before, I found a house where he had been. His scent was there, and other people's."

"You're sure?" Sanji demanded. "That it was Zoro, that he was there?"

"Yes." Chopper nodded wildly. "Maybe that's where it happened, whatever happened to him. I was going to tell you, Usopp, that's why I was looking for you, only I forgot all about it. I'm really sorry—"

"It's okay." Sanji reached around Usopp to tap the reindeer's hat. "You were a bit distracted. But that house, if it's got some clue about what's going on—you remember where it is?"

"I'm not sure...I could find it again, I think, but I don't remember well enough to give directions. I'd have to go with you..."

"We can all go," Usopp said, gathering himself. "I can just—" He made a concerted effort to push away from Sanji and sit up on his own, but it didn't quite work, and Sanji stopped him, laid him flat again with a good deal of care.

"You," the cook said, "are getting carried, if you're going anywhere. Which you probably shouldn't be, considering just a couple hours ago you were..." Sanji crossed his arms, looked at the doctor. "Chopper, if we do take him, will he—is he going to be—"

Chopper looked very small, standing there on the table, but his expression was grim for all his large childlike eyes. "Do we have a choice?"

"No," Usopp answered, before Sanji could, pushing himself up sitting. It hurt, but not as much; either the tea was helping, or he was getting used to it. He couldn't be an invalid now. It wasn't manly, and Luffy was out there, and their other nakama—including Zoro, they had yet to find him, the real Zoro. Maybe it wasn't a fake, but the man who had attacked him wasn't really Zoro, either. And if Zoro had gotten himself that lost, then it was more important than ever that they find him. "We don't. So let's go."


	10. Chapter 10

"What are you doing?"

The hunter didn't spare a glance back, having heard the man coming from two blocks away. His employer was not built to move quietly, and in this mud even a cat would make noise. "This is my job. All you have to do is wait."

" _Wait_ ," his employer rumbled. "Your target is Strawhat Luffy. Or did you forget?"

"You know damn well I wouldn't." The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at that name. "I haven't found him yet.

"So I'm just supposed to wait, while you waste your time with his weakling crew."

"They aren't...they're strong. They're..." He stopped, uncertain, finally concluded, "stronger than I was expecting."

"A girl, a kid with a slingshot, a deer—"

"Reindeer," he corrected.

"Are they too much for Pirate Hunter Zoro? They're not your targets. Forget about them."

" _I **can't**._ "

His employer's face, shadowed under his hood, twisted with something difficult to read: maybe concern, or surprise. Zoro was taken back himself by his own vehemence. Usually he had better reign over his emotions. Usually he wouldn't have any particular emotions. They were only a pirate crew, after all; he had fought enough of them before. But these..."They're a problem," he explained, to himself as much as his employer. "They'll interfere with our fight, when I find him. They'd all be in the way. Besides, I've already taken care of some of them. Nico Robin is gone—"

"She is?" his employer demanded. "Where? What'd you do with the body? She's bountied—"

"She's out of the way," Zoro growled. "She wasn't my _target_ either. And the other one might be dead by now, that sharpshooter..."

 _—Usopp_. The name came so quickly and easily it was dizzying. He didn't even know when he had heard it—the monster had shouted it, and the red-headed girl. Except it was already familiar then. Someone must have mentioned it to him before, though usually he didn't bother trying to remember the names of pirates, except his targets, and then only while hunting them.

The man was right; they weren't his prey. He shouldn't allow the distraction. Any of them, the sharpshooter, the monster, the girl. That blond cook, who he hadn't fought before, and yet his kicks were too easily predicted. And a fight so simple should not have raised his blood the way it had, any more than the terror in the reindeer's dark eyes, or Nami's cry... "I can't have them in the way."

"Don't let them distract you," his employer rapped out angrily, but then he drew a breath and calmed himself. "Roronoa Zoro," he said, and his voice grated on the hunter's nerves, that weirdly flat, patient tone as annoying as the dripping rain. Zoro's stomach turned, gut twisting painfully and bile rising. "Who's your true goal? Who do you hate, Roronoa Zoro? Remember who you hate."

"Monkey D. Luffy." He swallowed back the sickness, let the familiar rage burn away that ill discomfort.

"The only pirate to escape your blades," his employer said, in that same sickening monotone. "The worst monster of them all. Whose fault is it that you're a wanted man now?"

"Monkey D. Luffy."

"Remember Whiskey Peak, Roronoa Zoro. Remember how you fought him there."

As if he could forget. Just entered the Grand Line, and there he had met Monkey D. Luffy, not the first time, but the first time they had truly fought. That night had been dark as this one, but dry, dusty streets instead of this ceaseless rain and mud. And all the bodies, those failed bounty hunters...they had blamed Zoro, had put a bounty on his head for that crime, but what reason would he have had to attack a hundred bounty hunters, when he was one of their number?

Monkey D. Luffy's fault; Monkey D. Luffy, who he had fought that hot night, in that dry hunter's town, fought with all his strength, and yet it hadn't been enough to win. He remembered how angry he had been, the same frustrated rage that smoldered in his belly now. The same—hatred—

" _A swordsman cannot hate_ ," his master had told him, years ago. " _A sword wielded with hate, swung in anger, will never be the strongest._ "

—but surely there must be an exception made, when one is fighting a monster. The worst pirate of all, the one who would be pirate king.

 _Roronoa Zoro is one of Luffy's crew_ , that damn cook had said—mockingly, it must have been. As if he were such a coward that he would bow to that monster. Son of the devil, Zoro had called him, their first encounter, and it had been a devil's bargain the would-be pirate king had offered. To join him, or else die. Of course Zoro had refused. Served his sentence and earned his rightful freedom, but that bastard captain had seen that he paid for it eventually all the same, as he had also made his present employer pay. They both had reason enough for their hatred. That was why this man trusted Zoro now, because he had also seen it, had understood.

As if he, Roronoa Zoro, would ever have accepted such a deal, ever become a pirate, one of those weak, bullying criminals that he hunted. There had been other lives at stake then, too, that boy who dreamed of being a marine, that little girl—he couldn't remember exactly how, but they had been in danger; he could still taste that bitter wrath and helplessness, striving to protect them. It must have been the pirate; who else? A monster who would threaten the life of an innocent child...

There had been a child here, too, another little girl, hiding in a dark house, with the rain rattling on the roof. He had drawn his swords to protect her, but then she had run to him, thrown herself at him, so he had had to catch her—

His employer was speaking, had been for a couple minutes. Zoro shook his head, angry with himself for being so preoccupied by nothing more than his own thoughts. He couldn't recall exactly what the man had been saying—reminding him of what he was here to do, why he must do it, as if he needed the reminder. This was why a swordsman could not afford to hate; such distraction in battle could be fatal. He must stay focused, could not allow himself to be sidetracked.

Strange that this close to his prey he would find it so difficult to concentrate. When he was fighting it was all right, and he missed that surety now, the straightforward action and reaction of battle. Usually his thoughts wouldn't drift so easily, even outside of the pure, reflexive demands of a fight. But there was something not quite right here, something about the town, or the island, or the night. More than just the obvious danger of the pirates, and he knew better than to ignore the instincts he had spent years tuning.

"What happened to the girl?" he asked suddenly, and as he said it there came a sharp certainty that it was important, somehow—if nothing else, let her be safe, or else it wouldn't have been worth it at all—

"What do you mean?" his employer asked.

"There was a child," he said, but even as he said it, that sense of conviction slipped away, as completely as the apprehension of an indefinite threat vanished, leaving him confused. As if there were a menace just behind the dark curtain of rain, barely glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, but whenever he turned his head toward to look at it direct, nothing was there, like he had only imagined it.

Unable to recall what exactly he had realized, he struggled to at least remember the words he'd intended to say. "The child in the house—the girl you...I was trying to..."

For an instant his employer appeared to freeze, his expression for that moment seeming one of anger, or maybe even fear. But it must have just been the chill of the rain, for then the man only shook his head, frowning. "What are you talking about, a girl? There was no girl. You've met no one on this island but me and the marines, and those pirates."

Of course he hadn't; of course there had not been. Perhaps he had only dreamed it; he must have, the way it was so unclear, but for a single vivid moment—those little arms thrown around him, that whisper, "I'm sorry," and then a sharp sting...

His hand rose unconsciously to his throat, rubbing the wet skin—smooth, except for a little bump, like an insect bite, but there were no insects in this rain—

A big hand fell heavy on his shoulder. "Are you listening to me?" snarled his employer. "We're wasting time. Do you want to lose your chance?"

"Your chance as well," Zoro growled back automatically, but the man only laughed, harshly in the rain.

"I can't rely on you, then? You're not strong enough?"

It was all he could do not to pull his swords on the man. He kept himself perfectly still, damming back the surge of ferocious rage. There was no reason for it; a true swordsman pays no heed to words. It was only because he was so tense already that he was reacting this fiercely. He had no reason to hate this man. "I'm strong enough. Leave it to me, however I choose to do it." He made himself unstiffen enough to raise his head to look the other man in the eyes. "Whoever I decide to fight, don't get in my way again."

The man's hand lifted from his shoulder, slow and deliberate, like the caution one moves with around a rabid dog. "As long as you remember your true target, Roronoa Zoro. As long as you do it—you're going to, aren't you. You will. Tonight, you will kill Monkey D. Luffy."

Zoro didn't reply, didn't bother to answer, just turned and walked away. A swordsman has no need to state his intentions; words don't matter, only deeds. He would find the pirate; he would find them all, all that were left. That red-haired girl, that blond cook, the reindeer—all their faces, he could see as surely as if they were standing before him now, their eyes turned up toward him, and the man they followed. He would fight them all, and win. Even against their captain himself, this time, he would win.

He didn't look back to watch his employer's departure. Hopefully he would stay away; Zoro didn't need the distraction. The man didn't matter, nor his price. Nothing mattered, this night, but his hunt.

So he ignored those retreating footsteps, as he ignored the coldness of the wind blowing the rain against him. Ignored the echo of the man's voice reverberating in his head.

 _You will kill Monkey D. Luffy._

Deja vu; he almost could remember hearing that command before, in that same harsh, flat voice. Could almost remember himself replying—but it was vague as a dream, and just as absurd.

" _You will kill Monkey D. Luffy_ ," the man said, and his own voice answered, just as flatly, " _Never_."

But he would win, this night. One hand curled around the reassuringly solid reality of the white katana's hilt, Zoro continued alone down the street, seeking the harbor.


	11. Chapter 11

Quietly dozing in the shed's drafty darkness, Robin jerked into full awareness without realizing what had awoken her. The rain drumming on the tile roof overhead hadn't slackened, effectively muting most sounds, but some alert must have penetrated her subconscious. Her whole body was tensed, drawn taut as a guitar string.

Closing her eyes, she reached out with her power to open an eye and an ear on the outer wall of the shed, under the eaves where they would go unnoticed. The abruptly louder splash of raindrops was only momentarily disorienting, and through it she made out footsteps clunking on the dock's planks. She blinked water out of her eye and peered around. With her vision already adjusted to the pitch darkness inside the shed, she easily saw the figure through the gray night.

A single man, in a long hooded cloak protecting him from the rain, paced down the pier, his back to her. Zoro, returning to the ship? Mostly likely not for her; he would assume she was duly disposed of, but if he had failed to find the others... Or else he had and they had escaped, and perhaps he had pursued them here. The Merry was too far away for her to see if it were occupied.

Her hands curled tight around the blanket over her shoulders. If the swordmaster had found the others...he fought too well to be a hoax, to be anyone but Roronoa Zoro himself.

 _"Something...anything you've ever heard of, anything at all..."_ Nami's barely concealed desperation echoed in her thoughts. There were several possibilities Robin could imagine, each more ludicrously improbable than the last, and logic decreed that the simplest explanation was the most likely. And that simplest reason was that there was no reason, save his own decision to betray. It went against all she had observed of the man, but no one knew better than her how easily anyone can be deceived. Especially when those you are deceiving already trust you.

If she could manage to capture the swordsman, wring the truth from him—though whatever that truth was, the facts of what he had done now would remain, and might it not be wiser to allow him no other chance...

Then the man abruptly turned on his heel and marched back up the pier, and she realized it was a moot point for now. Not Zoro; this was a much larger man, and he moved with none of the swordmaster's efficient poise. The clouds shifted, and strained moonlight glittered off a blade much broader than a sword. Robin frowned in vague recognition. She couldn't make out the face under that hood, but that weapon—yes, it was almost certainly the same man as in the Marine's reports. Apparently it was more than idle speculation that he had disappeared onto the Grand Line.

There had been other rumors, too, stories that he had been taken down by more than mutiny. That had been before Strawhat Luffy had earned his first bounty, and word of mouth from East Blue was unreliable anyway. But Crocodile's records had been trustworthy, and he had kept close tabs on those who interested him. And she was almost certain one report about the Pirate Hunter Roronoa had mentioned this very man.

If that were so, and the rumors had been accurate...she understood revenge as well as betrayal. It might be only coincidence, of course, that he was here at all. But coincidence is illogical, and with his presence on the island, certain possibilities were now far more likely.

To tell from his deliberate strides the man had a particular destination; if he were involved, his actions might give himself away. Smiling slightly without being entirely aware of it, Robin stood, tested her legs and found her strength adequately returned. Folding the blankets and setting them aside, she appropriated an oilcloth cover to hood herself from the rain, and waited as the man headed back up the pier toward town, never once suspecting he was observed.

Once he had passed, cautiously she opened the door and slipped outside, watching with her eye on the opposite side of the shed until he turned the first corner. With an instant of concentration Robin grew an arm from the rooftop of the building where he had turned, twisted it toward him. Opening an eye in the palm, she kept watch as she followed down the street, silent as any other shadow behind him.

 

* * *

 

Chopper was so certain Zoro would find them again, was so tense from the apprehension of it, that it was almost a relief when the swordsman stepped from the shadows to bar their way.

They were only a couple blocks from the street where Chopper had found the house. As he brought his crewmates through the town he remembered his way more surely, helped by Sanji and Usopp's questions and encouragement. He told them all he remembered about what little he had seen and smelled. None of it was helpful, but once they were there, they might discover something he had missed. Must discover. There had to be a clue somewhere.

Neither of his crewmates were blaming him, but Chopper knew he should have looked at least a little harder. But Zoro hadn't been there, and he had been so anxious to find him...

And now he was just as anxious that Zoro might find them. They all were. Sanji kept gnawing on cigarettes that wouldn't stay lit in the rain, leaving a trail of abandoned efforts as they walked. And Usopp was breathing a little hard; Chopper, carrying his crewmate, could feel the accelerated working of his lungs. His pulse was fast, too; Chopper kept reaching up to check that, until Usopp finally batted his hand away.

He was definitely looking better, actively aware and talking with some animation, if quieter than usual. Really he shouldn't even be awake, but his crewmates were all so strong that Chopper wasn't surprised by how much he had recovered. Usopp was still gravely injured, but the stitched wound wasn't bleeding, and he had on a poncho and a thick sweater to keep him dry and warm. And even if it was fast, his heart was beating, which was the most important thing.

But no matter how strong and brave his crewmate was, Chopper still felt him shiver, when the swordsman strode into the street before them.

Somehow in the doctor's thoughts, Zoro had metamorphosed, his body twisting with his change of heart, so that Chopper almost remembered them being attacked by a fanged, clawed, monstrous thing. But the swordsman now was tall and proud and noble as ever, and for a heartbeat Chopper thought it might be Zoro as he should be, that it had been some terrible mistake, an accident or an illusion, despite Sanji's insistence otherwise. Some bad dream they all could awake from. But even hoping so hard he couldn't breathe, when Chopper looked, though the face was unmistakably Zoro's, the eyes were still cold and flat with that contempt that wasn't even powerful enough to be hatred.

Then Sanji stepped before them, insolence in his swagger, though his back was wired in a rigid straight line. "Oh, there you are," he said, tossing aside his latest unsuccessful attempt at a smoke. "Took you long enough to find us again. You get lost, shit swordsman?"

"Sanji, what are you _doing_ , he's already mad!" Usopp hissed urgently

Chopper didn't ask; he understood. Zoro might not always answer Sanji's challenges, but this was how Sanji always gave them. He was hoping for the anger, the annoyance, for some usual, familiar response; if this were really Zoro, if the true Zoro were anywhere in this man...

But Zoro said nothing, only raised his sword, no real anger in his face; he might not have noticed the insult at all. Sanji frowned, for one second deep and hurt, and then his face set in a chill indifference almost as implacable as the swordsman's. He rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets, readying for defense or attack.

Chopper couldn't help himself. "You—you don't have to do this," he said. "We won't—we don't want to fight you!" The swordsman's gaze moved from Sanji to him, and that look burned, like dry ice burns, stripping away his bravado until Chopper felt raw, helpless, but it was too late to look away. "Please," he gasped, "we don't..."

Usopp sat up in his arms, squaring his shoulders to face Zoro even though Chopper could feel him trembling. "We don't have bounties," the sharpshooter said, "none of us are worth anything, you know that. If we don't fight you—"

"I don't hunt for the money," Zoro said.

"No," Sanji said, "you fight to get stronger. By turning on people who trust you, by trying to slaughter an injured man, and attacking women." Under the black bandana, Zoro's eyes narrowed fractionally. Sanji must have seen that he had finally scored a reaction; there was a bitter sort of triumph in his voice as he continued, "What'd you do to Robin-chan, you bastard?"

The swordsman didn't argue, didn't hesitate. "I killed Nico Robin this evening."

Usopp shuddered, mutely shaking his head. Sanji didn't move a muscle, frozen into a dark statue in the filmy rain.

"Why?" Chopper said, not that he meant to, but it burst out of him, like breath forced out of the lungs after a blow to the chest. His eyes and nose burned with tears he hoped would be mistaken for rain. "Why are you attacking us, Zoro? We're not your enemies, we don't want to fight you. You're our nakama. Why are you doing this?"

There was a moment, one brief instant, that he thought something changed, that something in Zoro's shadowed eyes seemed to slip and behind that cold disdain he saw confusion, and pain, and despair. Maybe even fear, hard as that was to recognize in Zoro, who never feared anything, that Chopper knew.

But he must have only imagined it, because then Zoro had turned his head away, his katana'a blade tilted toward them, and his voice was as unfeeling as ever. "You're pirates," he said. "You're strong pirates. And all I'd ever have to do with the likes of you is to hunt you down."

"You're going to pay." Sanji broke from his paralysis gradually, the slow forceful motion of locked gears, mechanical precision in the angle of his head, the braced springs of his legs. "For saying that about Robin-chan, even if it's a lie. You're not getting away with that." The insulting challenge of his tone had given way to rage.

"Sanji—"

Sanji flicked a single glance back at them. "Chopper, Usopp, keep on going. We're close, right? You find the place and figure it out. I'll deal with this."

"You won't catch me off guard this time," Zoro said, not a boast, but a warning.

"Just don't get distracted," Sanji replied. "This is _our_ fight, shit swordsman."

This time, Zoro didn't deny it. "Then I'll have to end it quickly," he said, and plunged forward like a hawk dives. Chopper didn't even see his hand move, but suddenly his second katana was drawn, both blades curving toward Sanji. Sanji cartwheeled out of their paths, sprang sideways on one hand to kick Zoro in the shoulder.

"Sanji!"

"Go!" the cook yelled, twisting to slam his other foot against the first katana's hilt, wrenching the blade back, though Zoro didn't lose his one-handed grip.

Sanji was grinning, humorless and wild-eyed in the shadows. And Zoro almost was as well, lips pulled back from his clenched teeth in a wolfen snarl. His prey was proving stronger than expected, and he wanted this fight. They both did.

"Go!" Sanji shouted again, and Chopper held on tight to Usopp, and ran, the clash of swords and kicks sounding behind him, until the increasing rain drowned them out.

He didn't stop until he reached the street where he had found the house, paced along the eaves until he located the right stoop. The door was still propped awkwardly on its broken hinges where he had left it. Putting his shoulder to the wood, he shoved it aside.

The silent darkness inside was just as before, no sound or scent of anyone present. Usopp fumbled in his bag and pulled out a luminescent shell, its soft glow outlining the wooden floor and whitewashed walls, shuttered windows, a wooden table and two chairs. Chopper carefully sat Usopp in one of the chairs, instructing him to lie down if he felt dizzy, then saw to lighting the two lanterns by the fireplace.

The illumination cast light on the room but revealed little but dust. The walls were bare, the table and chairs out-of-place accouterments in the otherwise empty room. In addition to the entryway leading outside, there was another door in the opposite wall, but it was locked when Chopper tried to turn the handle. The lantern glass was clean but there was dust over the cold ashes in the fireplace; this house should be deserted, maybe abandoned, or else closed for the season.

But Zoro's scent was here, traces in the stale air, along with other odors, such as the faint stench of smoke—not cigarettes, he didn't think; strong enough to be cigars, perhaps. Shrinking to his regular shape, Chopper closed his eyes to focus, shutting out the stench of his wet fur and Usopp's blood. Metallic scents, and that vaguely poisonous smell he remembered from before. Now that he concentrated, he picked up another bitter musk as well, which he thought he should recognize, by how it made his fur bristle...

"Chopper." Usopp's voice, though hoarse, was still startling loud over the muted rush of rain outside. No other noise, the fighting was too far away to hear. Chopper looked to his crewmate, leaning on the table, as Usopp said, "What he said about Robin—Sanji was right, wasn't he, he was lying. He must have been."

"He—he must have been," Chopper echoed, though it sounded more like rote repetition than agreement. He swallowed, tried to sound more certain, though Usopp was one who was good at lies, not him, he never even could tell when he heard them. But it couldn't be true. "Robin wouldn't—she wouldn't just be killed."

"Of course not."

"She couldn't be."

"Never." Usopp sounded surer now, much surer than him, sitting up straight in the chair for all that his face was tight with pain. "So don't worry about it, Chopper."

"But—you were the one—"

"Hey, look at this," Usopp said. He picked up a few papers scattered on the table at his elbow, displayed them to Chopper. Wanted posters, and the faces printed on the salt-soaked, tattered paper were too familiar. Luffy's enormous grin beamed at them over both his thirty million and one hundred million bounty listings, and the last was Zoro's poster.

"But what does that mean?" Usopp asked, tossing the posters back on the table in frustration. "There's nothing else here."

"There has to be something," Chopper said. "Maybe upstairs—" He took a step toward that other door, but his poncho caught on something hidden in the other chair's shadow, tripping him with a metal jangling. Crouching, he picked up a length of heavy chain, ending in leather cuffs sized to fit around a man's wrists and ankles.

They both looked at the chain for a moment in silence, the iron links clinking against his hooves. Metal doesn't hold odor well, but Chopper thought Zoro's scent might be a little stronger in this corner, in sweat soaked into the leather.

He said so. Usopp swallowed, then nodded decisively. "Well, they were holding _someone_ prisoner here, anyway."

Chopper didn't want to cry, he really didn't; he had already enough tonight. If Zoro were here, Zoro would tell him to swallow back that lump in his throat, to stop whimpering and be a man. Zoro would be cross with him for crying now, not when it couldn't do any good and there were things he had to do; but Zoro wasn't here. Not anymore. If he had been here before, in these chains—if Chopper had looked for him sooner—"If he was caught—we didn't—this is terrible—"

"No," Usopp said, so quickly he sounded almost angry. "No, this is good—I mean, it's bad, whatever happened here, it has to be terrible. But Chopper, if someone caught Zoro somehow, if they really were holding him here—they _did something_ to him. What he's been doing, what he did to us, and fighting Sanji now, it's not because he wants to. I don't know how, but they're _making_ him do it."

"But..." How could anyone make Zoro do anything? Zoro did what Luffy told him to, because he had decided to follow his captain; but he wouldn't necessarily listen to Sanji, or Nami, or any of them; he wouldn't always do what Chopper told him to, even if it were the best thing for his body. Zoro would only ever do what Zoro wanted to. What could possibly force a man as strong as Zoro to do anything? Chopper couldn't even imagine something so horrible. "Who could do that, how could they have—"

"I don't know," Usopp said, "but however they did, we'll find a way to fix him."

"But how—"

"Captain Usopp can fix anything! And you'll be helping, so we can't fail—you're a great doctor. You fixed me!"

"S-shut up, idiot! I'm—not wanting to hear that!" But usually it would have made Chopper happy to hear anyway, even if it shouldn't. He didn't want to hear it at all now, though, not even a little, not when Usopp was still so gray under his tan, and they had had to leave Sanji alone to fight in the rain, and he didn't know how to fix this. Whatever Usopp said, he didn't have any idea, when he didn't even understand how—

Behind him, something hissed softly.

He jumped, and Usopp started, looking around wildly. "What, what?"

"I heard something." Wedged in the far corner of the room, between the fireplace and the inner door, was a squat box with a blanket draped over it. Only it wasn't a box, Chopper saw when he pulled off the blanket, but a cage, constructed of a closely-woven wire mesh.

He tapped a hoof against the wire, and the creature inside stirred. It was a small snake, not quite half a meter long and as wide as a couple fingers. At the tap it raised its head, weaving, and twisted it to Chopper. " _Cold_ ," it hissed forlornly, white tongue flicking between tiny fangs.

"What is it?" Usopp asked, craning his neck to try to see over Chopper.

"It's a snake," Chopper said, a little confused. Could a pet have been abandoned here?

"Wait, what are you doing?" Usopp asked urgently as Chopper unhooked the cage's lid. "What if it's poisonous?"

"We're friends," Chopper told the snake, and added to his crewmate, "It's okay. It's too small to eat us, so if it's not threatened it won't attack." He pushed up the wire mesh, stood on his toes to reach into the cage. Sluggishly the snake curled around his arm, its scales cool and smooth against the sensitive pads of his hooves, and he lifted it out.

It snuggled into the warmth of his furry belly, hissing its gratitude, already sounding a little more awake. He brought the serpent over to Usopp, who studied it curiously. Its top scales were a deep bronze-black, shimmering in the lantern light, but its belly was violet, and the ridged scales around its cat-slit eyes were a vivid blue. "Do you know what kind of snake it is?" Usopp asked.

Chopper shook his head. "I don't know reptiles very well," he confessed. "There weren't any on Drum Island, it's too cold." Dr. Kureha had showed him a few dried skins and skeletons when she had taught him about antivenins, which was how he had vaguely recognized the reptilian musk. The other scent, that very faint, poisonously bitter odor—could it be venom? But who would keep a poisonous snake as a pet?

"Who brought you here?" he asked the snake. "Did they leave you behind? How long have you been here?"

" _Not long_ ," the snake told him, with a reptile's vague time-sense. " _A few dark times and light and before was too wet and cold and rocking._ "

'Wet and cold and rocking' would probably be on a ship. "I think," Chopper said, frowning, "that it was brought here over the sea. Not too long ago, maybe a few days, or a week. Do you know why you were brought here?"

" _Master needed me. Master took me from the warm place in darkness, for his own ceremony. Master wanted me to bite, so I bit._ "

Chopper translated. "Master?" Usopp asked, also frowning.

The door slammed open, rain-laced wind whipping Chopper's fur. A figure filled the entryway, so large he had to stoop to enter.

Chopper shrank back against Usopp's legs as the man straightened and stomped into the room, towering over them, his eyes glittering with wild, unsound rage. Streaks of lamplight gleamed along the curve of the massive axe-blade where his hand should be.

" _Him_ ," the snake hissed.


	12. Chapter 12

This wasn't really a fight.

"You're not strong enough to kill Robin-chan," he said, and, "Some pirate hunter—who was the last pirate you actually brought down?" and, "Why don't you turn yourself in, get the bounty for that?" but Zoro didn't respond to any of it. Usually their fights were loud, but Zoro wouldn't answer any taunts, and Sanji stopped making them.

Zoro, trained not in pirates' brawls but a warrior's martial arts, could keep his cool under most fire, maintain perfect equilibrium of spirit as well as the balance of his triple blades. But there were ways to get under that thick skin, and Sanji had honed them over time, could break the swordsman's composure faster than he could fry an egg on molten steel.

There were ways, but none of them were working.

He had been so damn confident, assuring Chopper and Usopp that it had to be Zoro. And even if finding a twin three-sword-style swordsmaster on this island weren't patently ridiculous, such a doppelganger wouldn't have Zoro's unique skill.

But Sanji had clashed with Zoro more times than he could count, and this was not a fight he knew.

The difference could have been as much him as his opponent. Sanji had never been so angry. Zoro might be most irritating of his crewmates, but not like this. He wasn't usually a liar. _'I killed Nico Robin,'_ a falsehood that should never have been spoken; just the idea of it, and the bloodcurdling certainly with which he said it sickened.

A gentleman would not resort to certain moves, but this was no duel. Whenever Sanji blinked he saw Usopp's blood, Chopper's wide eyes as he worked, hooves moving lightning-quick as he stitched their friend's pierced flesh. Fast as Zoro's sword might stab, and just as single-minded and determined a battle, and there had still been that moment they thought they were losing. Sanji had held his crewmate's limp hand and held his breath and just held on while the doctor worked his vital magic—too close, and every time that memory flickered in Sanji's thoughts his kicks became that much faster, that much stronger. Zoro wouldn't listen to words; if his feet were the only way to be heard...

This was not a fight; this was something different, something worse than any he had fought before. Kick, and kick, and kick again, but just when Sanji thought he had driven the swordsman to a wall, Zoro slipped out from under the attack like so much rainwater, and then Sanji was the one caught between bricks and blades. He dropped and rolled, flipping onto his hands to catch one katana's hilt between his shoes, but the other sword was there before he could wrench the first from Zoro's fist.

Twisting away from the sword's swipe, he spun on his wrists, hurling a blow at the swordsman's head. But Zoro dipped under it, gliding out of range smooth as a serpent.

And that wasn't how Zoro fought. Usually Zoro would catch his kicks, prove his strength by blocking whatever Sanji threw at him. Sanji used that, could catch him off-guard occasionally, if Zoro miscalculated the power of his assault. But now it was like fighting a goddamn shadow, a ghost he could see but not touch. Wherever Sanji threw a kick, Zoro was not there, slipping away a split second before the blow could land.

The swordsman was toying with him. Giving him time to get back to his feet, the opportunity to gather himself between attacks. Usually he would have no such chance. Not courtesy; Zoro didn't know the meaning of the word. Not mercy, either; there was no compassion in those shadowed eyes, just the absolute confidence in his own strength that Zoro always had, now twisted into arrogance.

He hadn't pulled his third sword. The white katana was still sheathed at his side, and with it all his most powerful attacks. Zoro was hardly attacking, barely defending, letting Sanji wear himself numb while he casually avoided every strike. Playing with his opponent, mocking his fury and the entire fight.

The bastard. When Sanji saw red now, it wasn't remembered blood but his own outraged esteem. He had never had this much trouble even getting a hit on Zoro—true, it was dark, and the swordsman had a slight advantage on solid land, just as Sanji had the greater experience on the sea. But all their clashes before—he had seen Zoro fight worse battles, but it galled all the same, that Zoro could have been taking their combat so lightly, that Zoro might never have truly been fighting him at all. If this were only a game, what had all their previous matches been? Some shitty genial disagreements? If he were really so simply met...

Snarling, Sanji clamped his teeth down over his latest cigarette and slammed one foot straight forward, no fancy move, but so fast in his anger that he hit Zoro squarely in the shin before he could fluidly step aside. The swordsman made no noise, not even a gasp, but his stumble was enough that Sanji got another kick in, sound to his arm, before the swords came up to parry.

Playing with him. He spat the wet cigarette out into the mud. "Is this what you call fighting?"

The sword stabbing high was easily dodged, but the second katana swept low, invisible in the shadows, and Sanji had to jump to keep from losing a foot. In the air without warning, he had no way to avoid Zoro's charge, head and shoulders thrust forward like a butting ram. He blocked, but the blow knocked back on his ass, and the splashing mud didn't cushion the cobblestone beneath, landing him bruised and breathless, his teeth clicking together so hard his skull rung.

"Is that what you call fighting back?" the swordsman asked. His face was shadowed but a smirk contorted his voice, warped the coldness to cruelty.

Sanji picked himself up off the ground. Zoro was keeping a wary distance—more games; if he had struck a second before, Sanji wouldn't have been ready for him. "What do you care?" Sanji said, spitting out mud, maybe blood, too, it was hard to tell in the dark. "Does it matter how I fight, as long as you're strong enough to beat me?"

He didn't need to see Zoro's face; he could feel the change, a prickling on his skin like a gathering storm. The swordsman took a step back, then forward, skittish and unnatural, and Sanji's eyes widened. "But you do care, don't you," he said. "It _does_ matter."

"Shut up."

The growl was so low it was almost subsonic, but it came after the briefest of pauses, just enough room to keep pushing. "Why?" Sanji demanded, panting and trying not to, forcing his hoarse voice through the falling rain. "Do you get it? Really, why does it matter to you? If you can remember what—"

He barely ducked the swordsman's lunge, drove him back with a roundhouse kick and shouted, "Idiot! Just think about it! You don't really want to do this—"

"No, I don't," Zoro said, and that brief hesitation was gone, and the cool mockery, too. "I just want you dead," and then he attacked with such force that Sanji had no breath to say anything else.

 

* * *

 

Usopp could feel Chopper shiver, his crewmate pressed against his leg, wet fur seeping through and soaking his already damp overalls. He was shivering himself, a little; his teeth would be clacking if his jaw weren't clenched, but it was just from cold. No fear, even with this monster of a man looming over them, with that giant axe blade and riveted iron jaw.

He should be afraid, but he wasn't. Usopp knew better than to think he had gotten courage all of a sudden; this had to be shock, or something else, numb from the cold or the sedation of the doctor's drugs, damming back the terror that his heart should pounding with. Except his mind didn't feel hazy; his thoughts were perfectly, completely clear.

He knew this man. The man advanced on them, snarling, "What are you rats doing here?" and Chopper was still trembling, and all Usopp found himself thinking, with a sort of vaguely bemused and perplexed logic, was how he recognized that face. He had never seen it in person before, but on a poster, in a newspaper article—it had been a while ago, but it would be difficult to forget.

Axe-hand Morgan, ex-Marine captain, once a hero and then a criminal. The man who had brought down the dread pirate Kuro, supposedly; Usopp was one of only a privileged few who knew how great a lie that was. A tyrant feared as much by his own men as by pirates, he had been brought to justice in the end. By those very men, so it had been reported; but Usopp had heard the truth of that story, too. From Luffy's own mouth, laughing about it casually, some time past—Luffy hadn't remembered the man's name, of course, he never did; but he'd been proud of his victory.

Of their victory, because Zoro had been there, too. Just they two; their captain had had but one crewmember then. The pair of them would still have been more than strong enough to take down a Marine bully, just an East Blue weakling—what was Morgan doing here on the Grand Line?

But anyone can make it here, if they try hard enough, Usopp's own thoughts answered. _Look, even you are here._

And Zoro had been in this little house, for a while, Chopper had said, maybe for the last couple days, maybe held in these chains, and now this man had come here and this couldn't be coincidence. Though Morgan couldn't possibly be strong enough to have fought Zoro. But the rage in the eyes above that iron jaw was fearsome all the same—the rage, and more the madness.

It should have scared him witless, but it wasn't fear that made Usopp sit up straighter, for all the pain of his wounded side, and meet that crazed glare without blinking. It wasn't terror that hardened his voice until he himself barely recognized the low growl, demanding, "What did you do to Zoro?"

"Zoro?" Morgan stopped, jerked to a halt like he had abruptly reached the end of a leash. "You—" Madness in his voice, too, quivering like a suppressed laugh as his eyes ranged over Usopp. "Of course, that nose—you're one of the Straw Hat crew. You, and their pet," and he barely glanced down at Chopper before looking again to Usopp, and the bulk of bandages under his sweater. "So he didn't quite finish you off. Dumb son of a bitch, he's no better than any grunt I've commanded. If you want something done..."

Morgan took another step toward them, his arm with the axe blade raised, and Chopper stiffened. Usopp didn't need to look to know the reindeer was bracing himself, waiting for the man to get a little closer before attacking. Smart thinking; the transformation might catch him by surprise. Chopper in man form would be almost Morgan's size, and probably strong enough to beat him, but just in case, Usopp reached into his bag, feeling for his slingshot. He would just have to distract Morgan long enough for Chopper to take him down, before that axe could fall—

"What?" Morgan gasped suddenly, freezing. "Why do you have that?"

He had suddenly noticed the bronze serpent curled against Chopper's brown fur. The way his eyes were bugging, it might have been a king cobra, and Usopp uneasily wondered how dangerous the creature might be, if Morgan were this afraid of it, knowing what it was.

But he doubted that was why Chopper's voice shook, as the reindeer asked, "Did you do something to Zoro?"

The man's upper lip twisted in a sneer, though he was now keeping a cautious distance. "You mean besides hire him?"

The snake hissed, no louder than the rain outside, but the quivering note in Chopper's voice unexpectedly steadied. " _What did you do to him?_ " He exploded up into his full-sized man form, the snake slithering down off him to coil on the floor.

Morgan took another step back, but his eyes had narrowed, not widened more with shock. "Impressive trick, monster. But how are you against steel?"

Lunging forward, he swung the axe down, faster than seemed possible with a weapon so large. "Chopper!" Usopp yelled, still fumbling for his slingshot, tangled among the other junk in his bag.

But it was too late to do anything anyway, because the axe's swing had come to an abrupt stop. Morgan gagged, fighting against the slender arm locked around his throat. More limbs extended from his back and the floor, grabbing his legs and wrists and twisting back his arms.

Chopper didn't hesitate. Open-handed, palms out in an unhooved imitation of his cross blow, he hammered a punch forward, not into that unbreakable iron jaw but against the man's massive chest, slamming him in the solar plexus. When Morgan stumbled he followed it up with a heavy clout to the back of his neck, and the hands vanished to allow the man to crash to the floor like a felled ox.

Chopper, panting, shrank again, so Usopp could see past him to the tall figure in the doorway. They both stared for a moment, and then Usopp cried, "Robin! You're alive!"


	13. Chapter 13

""Robin!" Usopp cried. "You're alive!"

Their crewmate nodded and entered, shrugging off her soaked poncho. "Evidently so." She peered down at Morgan, out cold on the floor. "Is he completely unconscious?"

Chopper hastily checked the man's vitals and nodded, then flung himself at Robin, clinging to her leg. "Robin, you're okay? Zoro—Zoro said he—you—"

Robin blinked, then crouched to pat the reindeer's small shoulder. "I'm fine, Doctor-san. I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner, but I was indisposed. But I'm feeling better."

"What happened?" Displaying the same speed with which he had attacked Morgan, Chopper grabbed Robin's wrist and took her pulse, then put a hoof to her forehead and frowned. "You're a little cold; were you hypothermic? Your clothes are damp, you should be dry—" His eyes widened. "Salt scent—the sea? Did you fall—"

"It's all right," Robin said calmly. "Navigator-san helped me." Gracefully she stood and looked to Usopp, her dark eyes searching him up and down. "Longnose-san, I heard you were injured, but how severely?"

"I'm fine," Usopp said, doing his best to sound so. Chopper's mutter undermined that, however, and he had a feeling Robin wasn't buying it anymore than she usually believed his lies. To forestall further questions he asked, "So you've seen Nami? She's okay, right?"

"She is," Robin said. "I saw her and the captain just a little while ago."

"Luffy?" Usopp sat up straighter, saw Chopper look up to her wide-eyed. "Luffy's around?"

"Not more than several blocks from here. I was following this man," and she nodded at Morgan, "from the harbor, and happened to notice them. He didn't see them, however, and they were too far away for me to call to them, but I eavesdropped. They had yet to find Zoro, but the captain's aware of the situation. He also had seen something else troublesome—there are marines docked here, on the other side of the island."

"Marines?"

"That guy," Usopp pointed, "used to be a marine captain. From East Blue."

Robin nodded. "Captain Axe-hand Morgan. I know. There were rumors about his downfall..."

"They're true," Usopp said. "It was Luffy and Zoro, they're the ones who got him arrested. I don't know when he got away—but I bet he'd hate them that much. Enough to try something like this." He sighed. "Whatever this is."

"If this man Morgan is working with the marines and the pirate hunter Roronoa to capture our captain—"

"He wouldn't! Zoro wouldn't work with those bastards! There's gotta be some other reason—"

"He did it," Chopper said, quietly, but so definitely that Usopp shut his mouth with a snap. "This man, Morgan, you said? I don't know what, exactly, or how," the reindeer went on, "but it was him. The snake said so."

Usopp glanced down to see the snake he had almost forgotten, coiled at his feet. Recalling Morgan's reaction to the animal, he hastily lifted his boots out of its way as it slithered to Chopper, who crouched to pick it up again.

"Doctor-san?"

"It's okay," Chopper said, to either Robin or the snake. "We're friends."

Robin stared at the brown scales and blue-ridged eyes for a couple seconds longer than Usopp was comfortable with, but before he could ask her what was wrong, she asked, "You haven't seen this kind of serpent before, Doctor-san?"

Chopper and Usopp both shook their heads.

"They're only native to one island on the Grand Line," Robin said, "but occasionally you might find them elsewhere. They're a key element of several different religious ceremonies that I'm aware of. The common name is mesmerang."

Chopper started. "Mesmerang? Like mesmeranguivin?"

"Exactly. That medicine is derived from their venom."

"What's—"

"It's an anesthetic, a powerful narcotic," the doctor explained. "It's expensive; I don't have any. And dangerous—it can be lethal if you get the dose wrong."

"Lethal?" Usopp nervously eyed the snake in Chopper's arms, though the doctor didn't look especially concerned. "So is the snakebite also...?"

"It can be," Robin said. She knelt to stroke a finger down the snake's dark scales. "Though not immediately. As I said, they're used in religious ceremonies. The venom induces a trance state—I don't know much about it, but stories say that a man bitten by a mesmerang can and will do anything, if he is properly induced."

"Properly induced?" Usopp blinked. "If he's in a trance—like hypnosis? This guy Morgan could've hypnotized Zoro to attack us, if he were bitten?"

"He was," Chopper said. He had been murmuring to the snake; now he raised his head again, his large eyes bright and unhappy. "There was a man with swords, that his master made him bite. A couple days ago, it sounds like." The doctor swallowed. "Robin, you said—it's not immediately lethal."

"No," Robin said. "It takes several days to kill, and there's an antivenin."

"What if he doesn't get the antidote?"

Robin's expression didn't obviously change, but those beautifully angular features took on the rigidity of marble. Spreading her fingers, she crossed her arms over her chest. Morgan's large body jerked up, roughly yanked back by hands suddenly behind him, twisting his arms against his back in a solid hold. The axe blade ground against the floor. He groaned, then snapped awake as one of Robin's hands slapped his cheek.

She allowed him to blink at her hazily for a moment, but when the iron jaw opened she spoke before he could. "What command did you give Roronoa Zoro?"

Morgan shook his head, his bleary stare settling into a sneer. "Nico Robin. So he even lied about taking you out. That worthless—"

"What was the command?" Robin asked. "Just to kill Monkey D. Luffy? Or was there more?"

Morgan tried to rise, grunted sharply as Robin's arms wrenched his own good arm backwards. He strained against her for a moment, snorting and rumbling like a snared boar, then heaved a sigh, closing his eyes. "You _are_ a dangerous bitch."

"Thank you. Was the deal just for the capture or execution? Or do you need more to buy back your rank, Ex-Captain?"

"And you even know about me, I see."

"How'd you capture Zoro?" Chopper asked. He had grown large again, big enough to loom over the man, the serpent a bronze armlet ringing his thick, furred biceps. "How'd you get him to do this? It couldn't be just hypnotism; you can't hypnotize someone to do what they never would. Zoro—he w-wouldn't. Unless..."

Morgan opened his eyes again, rolled them toward Usopp. "You just going to sit there, boy? Let a woman and a pet handle this interrogation?"

"You're not answering my crewmates anyway," Usopp said. He knew he shouldn't get angry, not with the bastard trying to provoke him. "And either of them could hurt you worse than me."

"Maybe I had nothing to do with this, and I don't know anything."

"You were here," Chopper said. "The mesmerang says so, and before I smelled the cigars here that I smell on you now. And the man he bit, it has to be Zoro."

"And if it was, beast? What's that to you?" That contortion of Morgan's iron jaw might have been a widening grin. "Like you said, hypnotism only works on a willing subject. So if the swordsman's after you, he must want to bring down you pirates. He must want it bad, to be out hunting in this weather."

He shouldn't get angry, but it was very difficult not to. "You're making him do it!" Usopp burst out. "You caught him somehow, and you poisoned him with that venom and then you screwed up his head, told him stuff, so he doesn't know it's us—" Only Zoro had known; he'd known them well enough to ask them where Luffy was, well enough not to be surprised by Chopper's shape-changing or Sanji's kicks. Even under the spell of the venom, he still fought like a demon, or else he wouldn't have been able to give Sanji such a battle—had Sanji won yet? Or will they still fighting, or had Sanji...

Morgan was smirking, enjoying their anger. But now that they knew what was wrong, they could do something about it. If they could capture Zoro themselves, long enough to give him the antidote—before—

Chopper's thoughts had followed the same tracks as his own. "The snake bit Zoro when you first caught him," the reindeer said. "That was a couple days ago. If the venom's still in him..." He lowered his head, his voice drained of anger, pleading with all his doctor's heart. "Please," he said, "you must have the antivenin, for your own sake. Where is it?"

For a moment Morgan stared at him, unmoving. Robin stood as motionless beside him, with her arms still raised and rigid, holding him tight. Then the man opened his mouth, threw back his head and laughed, a harsh, choked sound. "Maybe you can talk to other dumb beasts, but you don't know the right questions to ask. Ask it how many times it bit Roronoa. A single trance wouldn't last this many days. If I hadn't given him the antivenin already, he'd be long dead."

"Where is it now?" Usopp demanded. Morgan had to have some of the antidote left; if the venom were really this dangerous, he'd have some for himself, as Chopper had said, in case the snake accidentally bit him. Enough to take care of what was in Zoro now, there had to be—

But Morgan was laughing again. "Morons," he said, "I just told you, I already gave him the antidote. You think I'd have my man fight poisoned, against a monster like Strawhat Luffy? There's no venom in Roronoa now. Like I said before—he _wants_ to fight you. Everything he does now is of his own free will."

"No," Chopper shook his head, "no, no, he wouldn't—"

"You're lying," Usopp said, cold all through, an iciness more paralyzing than the pain of his wounds, because he knew lies well enough to know when he was hearing them, and when he wasn't, and Morgan's awful laugh rang too true.

"Doctor-san," Robin said, calmly, "may I?" and she extended her hand toward the snake around his arm. At a mutter from Chopper, the serpent uncoiled from his biceps to slither onto Robin's hand, looping around her wrist with its head gently caught between her fingers. She turned back to Morgan, crouched before him.

With her other arms still wresting his own back, the big man couldn't do more than glare at her as he spat out, "What are you going to do, bitch?"

"Nothing," Robin said, "but ask our questions again."

She looked back over her shoulder at Chopper, and nodded. The reindeer spoke a soft word that was no more than an unintelligible hiss, as she opened her fingers.

The snake moved so fast Usopp didn't see its strike. Morgan froze, mouth gaping and neck crooked, as the serpent unhooked its fangs from the flesh of his thick throat and wound itself back around Robin's outstretched arm.

Gradually Morgan unstiffened, sinking down in on himself like a leaking balloon, his eyes heavy-lidded and his jaw slack. Robin did not release the hold of her many arms, but he sat passive, no longer struggling against their restraint.

"Can you hear me, Ex-Captain?" she asked.

Slowly the man's head tilted up toward her face. "Yes," he said, clearly, but dull, drained by the venom of that sneering contempt and all other emotion.

"Good," Robin said, almost as flatly. "Now, you are going to tell us exactly what you did to the swordsman-san."


	14. Chapter 14

_It's all hazy when Zoro tries to remember_ , unclear, like he can't separate real memories from recent dreams. Like trying to recall a story he was told a long time ago, and he might just be imagining the ending. It's frustrating, pointless. Distracting. Best not to try at all.

The past is irrelevant; it's the here-and-now that matters. Finishing the fight with this pirate cook so he can face his captain. That's all he's doing. All he needs to do. How long he's hunted the monster is meaningless; the fights before are meaningless. Even the reason he's hunting ceases to mean anything at all.

 _Why_ , the damn cook asked, like he wanted an answer. He should know the answer, if he were truly a fighter. _Why_ doesn't matter, not when Zoro's fighting. Only that he is.

He was tied before, bound, captured and impotent, his swords taken from him, but that wouldn't stop him; that wasn't why he had been unable to fight. Vaguely he can picture a child, a little girl, but he's not sure if it's the face of the girl from that marine base in East Blue; or another girl he—met. Saved. A year ago, or more. Or else maybe just a few days past.

Not important. Not now. Now there's just the hunt. This fight now is only prelude, only an obstacle. The real battle is coming, soon.

Hawkeyes Mihawk is out there somewhere; they met once and will again; but if he can't win against an ordinary pirate then he doesn't have a chance against the greatest swordsman in the world. His swords must be strong enough to bring down this prey, if ever he can consider himself worthy for that final battle against Mihawk.

 _"Join me,"_ he said, that seeming boy, with the straw hat and the wide grin. "Join me, or die," but Zoro would never become a pirate, not for the sake of his life, not for any price. He would never sail with the despicable monsters he hunted, the cruel men who preyed on the helpless. Pirates are weak. Pathetic bullies who only willingly fight when the win is sure, easy battles against pathetic opponents. Cowards who run from his swords, who never risk anything for any glory greater than gold.

_"I'm the man who will be Pirate King!"_

He never would become a pirate. His loyalty lays only with his dreams, with her dream, with the promise pledged upon her sword. The only man he would ever follow is his prey, the straw-hat captain he's tracked relentlessly through the seas, deep into the deadly Grand Line to this island, this rain-soaked town. Zoro doesn't recall that journey, doesn't know how he got here, but it doesn't matter, since he is.

It doesn't matter, and he doesn't remember, doesn't care; but somewhere below the threshold of his conscious mind there's another self, a silhouette cast by a different light, a shadow flickering, blurred, behind him.

He's climbing down from the ship onto the docks, treading through puddles collecting in hollows on the pier. "Be back by nightfall," Nami calls from under her oilcloth hood, leaning over the railing, "you've got watch tonight. Don't get lost!"

Zoro nods, invisibly in the rain, and keeps going. Sanji and Usopp have already left to scrounge up what supplies they can in this miserable place. He just wants to stretch his legs. Find a bar; even the cook's best brandy gets boring after too long at sea.

Instead he finds a boy. He's the first person Zoro meets in an hour of walking, and he's crying, fists to his face, hysterical. It's strange for a child to be alone in this deserted town, and his wailing is an irritating, wrenching noise, piercing through the storm. "Oi, kid. What's wrong?" Nami would be better with a kid this young, or Chopper, if he's hurt.

"M-my big sister—" the boy sobs, "the man says he's gonna kill her..."

He's not the cook, to chase after any promise of a woman. But the boy's tears are sincere, and if Zoro stays out in the rain much longer his swords might rust. "Where?" he asks.

The kid stares at him, sniffling.

"Show me," Zoro tells him, and the boy wipes his nose on his sopping sleeve and starts to lead the way. "What's this man like?" Zoro asks, following him through the streets. If there's a chance of a real battle, Luffy wouldn't want to miss it.

"Big, really big," the kid answers, reaching as high as he can with his hands to demonstrate. "His chin's made of metal, and he doesn't have one hand. He's got an axe instead," and Zoro frowns, because that was a while ago, and so far away, but how likely is it that Captain Morgan has a double, even on the Grand Line?

Morgan is just a thug anyway, not a real fighter. No need to get Luffy; this would hardly count as exercise. Zoro would just as soon not blunt his swords on the man's axe, but there's no bars open anyway, that he can see. And the boy has stopped crying, at least.

When the kid points out the house, Zoro doesn't waste time. Usopp or Robin might have used devices or powers to investigate, check for traps, but without them, Zoro just draws his three swords, kicks open the door and charges in.

It is Morgan after all, standing there with the girl tucked under his massive arm like a struggling, squirming sandbag. A little girl, hardly older than her brother, much too young for the cook.

"Drop her," Zoro commands.

"Roronoa," Morgan says, and Zoro knows that something's wrong then. The hatred with which the ex-Marine says it, that's usual enough, no worse than what Zoro has heard from other men he's defeated. But there's no surprise in Morgan's voice, not the least shock that Zoro's here on this island, in this house. He was expected.

If this is a trap, however, he can see no sign of it; the door's still open behind him, and there's no one else in the room, just him and Morgan and the kid with her tear-streaked face.

"Put her down," Zoro orders again, raising his swords, and slowly Morgan lowers his flailing burden. She tears free of his grip and runs toward Zoro, whimpering like a hurt animal. "It's okay," he tells her. Morgan is just standing there, his arms crossed as well as he can manage, with the axe. He's not moving, but Zoro keeps his eyes fixed on the ex-Marine and his swords ready. "Your brother's outside."

"I was so scared," the girl whimpers, shaking, and throws herself at him, clinging. Zoro glances down at her long enough to see her open hands, clutching at his shirt, hanging off him; she has no weapon, and doesn't weigh enough to impede his swords' swing, if that were Morgan's aim.

But Morgan still has yet to shift an inch from his set stance, not attacking, just staring back at him. Zoro wonders if it's worth bringing him down, or should he just leave with the kid and forget it. She's got her face pressed against his chest. With his shirt already soaked from the rain he can't feel the tears, but he can feel her shaking. " _I'm sorry_ ," she whispers.

That's when it brushes against his throat, smooth as fingernails. Out of the corner of his eye he sees bronze coils slide out from under the collar of the girl's shirt. He drops her, shoving her down as he claws at his own neck, but it's too late.

Fast as a striking snake, his swords have been called before, but the real deal is that much faster. By the time he's got his fingers around the serpent, its fangs have already sunk into his neck, stinging venom plunged into his bloodstream.

Morgan is smiling now, broadly.

Some cobras, Zoro has heard, can kill a man in fifteen seconds. But so can he. Snarling, he throws the snake aside to slap against the damp floorboards, while he charges Morgan. The ex-Marine doesn't even try to fight, just dives to the floor, under the sweep of the blades, with his axe raised to block.

The venom running through Zoro's veins slows his swing, his head spinning. This doesn't feel like death, though; he's been on that threshold enough times before to know. All he needs to do is take down this guy and get back to Chopper; the doctor will find an antidote.

But everything's slow, now, shadowed and muffled, like he's fighting wrapped in silk. And Morgan seems like he might be miles away, though Zoro can see him clearly as the big man clambers to his feet. In his fist the snake thrashes, brown coils writhing.

"Drop the swords," Morgan says, and the words echo, resound through Zoro like a second heartbeat. His fingers are loosening before it occurs to him that it might not be a good idea. Morgan's an enemy, after all. Someone he intends to fight, when he can move freely again. As soon as Chopper gives him the antidote, if Luffy hasn't taken care of the bastard already by then.

Deftly, with the tip of his axe, Morgan opens the lid of a wire cage, dumps the wriggling snake inside and hooks it shut again. Then Morgan's hand is on Zoro's shoulder—his real hand, not the axe—bearing down with the weight of a boulder. The ex-captain is towering over Zoro—he's on his knees, he realizes, though he doesn't remember kneeling. It's easier than standing; his head's not whirling so badly, lower to the floor.

But it's harder to fight kneeling. He tries to stand again.

"No," Morgan tells him, so he stops. "Drop your swords," Morgan goes on, and Zoro blinks. Hadn't he been told to do so already—but they're still in his hands, when he looks. He wills his fingers to open, and eventually, gratifyingly, sees his clenched fists unfold, the swords clinking to the floor.

Fallen beside the white sword, already laid before him, silver blade gleaming in the flickering light. He doesn't know when he dropped Wadou, but it shouldn't be there, should it, not lying there apart from him. He reaches for the katana, but Morgan tells him, "Don't move."

Morgan's behind him. He didn't see the man walk, but then he wasn't looking. Everything seems to be moving so slow around him, like it's all trapped in glue, until he looks at something in particular, and then it becomes almost too fast for his eyes to follow. Dizzying. Morgan has pulled his arms behind his back, and Zoro hears metal clink as bands are fastened around his wrists. It's not especially uncomfortable, when he can hardly feel his limbs anyway.

"Don't move, Roronoa," Morgan tells him again. "Don't stand, don't speak, unless I ask you to. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Zoro says; his mind feels stuck in the same glue as everything else, but he's not an idiot. "I understand."

"Good." Morgan's grinning, a big broad smirk that Zoro doesn't like. "Very good." He reaches into a pouch at his belt, pulls out a few coins and tosses them towards the door. "There's your pay. Go buy your tickets off this mudhole."

Zoro turns his head enough to see the little girl, crouching on the floor to gather up the money. Her brother waits in the doorway behind her, watching anxiously.

"This isn't enough," the girl whimpers. "You promised more—this won't pay for Mother's medicine—"

"How's that my problem, brat?" Morgan snarls. "I'm generous enough to give you your lives. Don't push it."

The girl's eyes are tear-filled again, as she stares at Zoro. "We're sorry, Mr. Swordsman, we're really sorry, but we had to..."

"Sorry," her brother echoes, sniffling.

It's all right, he wants to tell them. His fault, for walking into the trap. Such an obvious trap; his crewmates will laugh at him, when they hear about it. Even if any of them would have fallen for it just as easily.

"Get out of here," Morgan growls at the kids. "And remember to stay away from the pirates, when you leave the island. Imagine what they'd do to you, if they found out what happened to their crewmate here."

 _No, they wouldn't_ , Zoro wants to say, but Morgan hasn't told him he can speak. By the time it occurs to him that maybe he could say it anyway, the kids are gone, pelting down the rainy streets.

The door slams shut behind them, closing off the sound of rain. In the new silence the throb of his heartbeat is slow, ponderous and distracting. Morgan picks up Zoro's swords, all three of them, brings them to a chest in the corner and drops them inside, closing the lid and locking it. Zoro opens his mouth to protest, but Morgan looks at him and says, "Don't speak," and he doesn't.

The cage is in front of him, and Zoro watches the snake slither around its mesh confines like it's seeking a hole large enough to escape. He wonders if he should be trying to escape, too, but he's never cared for running away. Then Morgan standing over him, still grinning, and Zoro still dislikes that grin. But it's not the smile of a man ready for battle, and he can't think of how else to get rid of it, if Morgan's not going to fight.

"Wondering yet why I wanted you here, Roronoa?" Morgan asks.

"No," Zoro answers honestly, failing to see how it matters, since he is here.

He looks up too slowly see Morgan's hand move, just feels his head jerk at receiving the backhand, though it barely stings his cheek. "Ask me," Morgan commands, deep and droning. "Ask why you're here."

"Why am I here?"

"You're going to help me, Roronoa Zoro. I'm your boss now, and you'll do what I command. Understand?"

"I understand."

"You won't sleep or eat unless I allow it. You won't move or speak, unless I tell you to. You will obey every order I give you."

There is only one answer he can think of. "I'll obey."

"Nod your head."

He nods. Part of him asks why he does, but it's a small query, hard to hear over the beating of his heart and the terrible compelling thrum of Morgan's orders.

"Do you see this?" Morgan holds up a piece of paper before his eyes, a wanted poster. Zoro nods again. "Do you know this man? Tell me who it is."

Wide as the grin is in that picture, it's still not as enormous as it is in reality. "My captain."

"Tell me his name."

"Strawhat Luffy. Monkey D. Luffy."

"This is your order, Roronoa Zoro," Morgan says. "You will find Monkey D. Luffy tonight. You will fight him, and you will kill him."

He doesn't really remember why he's here, or what he's supposed to do, except to obey. This is an order, and there is only one answer he can give.

**" _No._ "**


	15. Chapter 15

His eyes stung, and Sanji brought up a hand to wipe them, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Dark stains on his fingers, mud and the blood flowing freely from the cut on his forehead that he didn't remember getting.

Zoro's swords whistled through the rain and he spun out of the way, avoiding the blades with so little room to spare that he felt the gust of the slash against his skin.

Sanji didn't know how long they had been fighting, had lost all track of time, same as he would when busy in the kitchen creating a particularly extravagant dish. Only now it wasn't the growling of his stomach that let him know how long he had been focused, but the pounding of his skull, the throbbing of his legs.

Zoro was breathing harder, too, but if the swings of his swords had become any slower, Sanji couldn't tell. Zoro still hadn't drawn the third sword, the white katana remaining sheathed at his hip. Every time Sanji caught sight of it, the surge of insulted anger swept away the fatigue weighing down his limbs, strengthened and sped his kicks. But every time that respite was shorter-lived, and he couldn't afford the anger anyhow. In brute strength he didn't have the mass to match the swordsman; he needed to be quick and clear-headed. If he made a misstep in this slippery, muddy darkness, the loss would be his own fault, and that was unbearable.

So, though it galled, he didn't press an attack. Let the stupid swordsman wear himself out swinging his swords, while he ducked and dodged, striking out only enough to keep his opponent engaged, and to keep himself from being cornered. And all the while Sanji studied Zoro's attacks, like he never had before. Never had reason to before, not like this. Nor had he had much opportunity. Zoro rarely fought all-out; like the Shichibukai Mihawk, he applied only force enough to defeat his opponent and no more.  
But that kind of confidence was arrogant enough to be a vulnerability, could be exploited. The swordsman wasn't even the world's greatest. Maybe he would get there eventually, but he still had weaknesses, flaws for all his strength and discipline. He had respect enough for Sanji's kicks to block or duck, but Zoro might yet underestimate him. Sanji let himself gasp for breath, shoulders heaving; held himself back when he kicked, when he dodged. Fast, but only just fast enough; he actually had the strength left to move faster, to kick harder. And Zoro hadn't noticed, even though he should have, even though he should know Sanji's true endurance as well as Sanji knew his.

But this Zoro didn't know him. And he hardly knew this Zoro. Even familiar with the swordsman's techniques, Sanji could only barely keep apace. If he were trying to attack instead of just defending—

Zoro dove forward, the two swords tilted in to meet at a single point, dropping low. Sanji knew that attack; it should have been an easy thing to avoid, to leap into the air over the blades and scissor a double kick at the swordsman's head. Except as he did, Zoro skidded to a halt, sweeping both swords up and outward, bare blades rising to meet Sanji's legs. No blunt block, that parry; the steel would cleave through flesh and bone like a carving knife.

Sanji had no choice, if he wanted his feet to stay attached to his ankles; he pulled his legs into a ball and crashed to the ground, rolling. It took a fraction of a second for him to uncurl and jump back to his feet, and that was more than enough for Zoro. Sanji saw the swords coming and twisted aside, but one blade was too close, ripping his torn jacket to further shreds and tearing deeper, the sword point catching his skin to score a long scratch.

He gasped more from the shock than the pain, clamped his arm against his side. Only a little heated blood was seeping into the rain-soaked silk of his shirt; not a deep cut, then. But deep enough, and Sanji only barely dodged the lightning stabs that followed, cartwheeling backwards on his other hand as he desperately tried to regroup.

What mistake had he made? His footing hadn't slipped, his limbs hadn't betrayed him; and yet he had all but thrown the fight right there. The old geezer would have kicked him black and blue for endangering his legs that stupidly, no better than some rank amateur who had never fought against a real weapon before.

—Or who had fought too many times, Sanji realized with gut-wrenching mortification. Because this was Zoro, and he had attacked Zoro with that exact move before, dozens of times, and sometimes it had been blocked, sometimes the swords had parried—but the blades always before had been sheathed, or turned so the flat dealt a bruising blow. But never any serious injury, nothing that a good night's sleep wouldn't heal. No matter how hard you fight, how incensed you are, you don't wound nakama.

He was still fighting Zoro, but Zoro didn't know who he fought against. Didn't care. There had been that one moment of hesitation before, but maybe Sanji had imagined it. Or else misunderstood—it hadn't been doubt that stayed the swordsman's hand, or uncertainty; maybe nothing more than scorn.

This was Zoro, but he didn't truly know Zoro, not anymore, and this was no game. As it had been since tonight's first attack, they were fighting a battle to the death, and if Sanji wanted his life he had to win.

Somewhere along the line Sanji's last anger had vanished. He had stopped noticing the rain, the aches of his chilled body and the sting of his wounds. The glitter of swords slashing through the night was bright enough to darken all other unnecessary things to oblivion. He didn't know if that tunnel vision was exhaustion or the focus of adrenaline, but he needed it. The more closely he watched, the better he comprehended the swordsman's motion. This slash a mirror image of a more usual blow, that footwork a variation on a typical defense. He had fought Zoro for too long, too many times, not to recognize the underlying patterns in his apparently chaotic forays. And once Sanji realized that pattern, he grasped his chance.

Zoro was leaving openings, overreaching himself, breaches in his guard—of course, wasn't that how he always fought, never a moment's concern for his own life. His defense wasn't perfect; defense was never on his mind, not defense of his own life. And it showed, though you had to look sharp to see it, but there, as he raised his swords, as he brought them crashing down, leaving his neck undefended. Just an instant, but there was an opening. One kick, perfectly timed, perfectly aimed, could fatally crush his throat.

Sanji's exhaustion was no pretense anymore, his weakness barely overplayed. If he didn't act soon he would lose his last stamina, his last chance. He bided his time for a second longer, twisting eel-like from the next strike, and then, when Zoro had extended himself that half-centimeter too far, he attacked.

It wasn't until Sanji was right there, flipping onto his hands to avoid the double arcing swords, that he realized he couldn't do it—that the opening was there, and he was in the ideal position, impossible to miss, and yet he could not deal that blow.

Cursing the swordsman with every word he could think of, he somersaulted back onto his feet and threw a clumsy kick that he knew would be blocked before his heel left the ground.

"What was that, you damn cook?" Zoro panted, the first time he had spoken since their fight had truly begun. "Mercy for one of your _nakama_?" He made the word an expletive, and the swords stabbed forward, impossibly even faster than before. Enraged by that implied mercy, or by the intimation that he was too weak to take seriously.

Sanji couldn't remember what his own rage had felt like. Even the blinding gleam of the swords had begun to darken. Zoro was right. Nakama, even now, even if the damn swordsman didn't remember.

If Sanji couldn't do this, then Luffy would have to. Luffy, for whom that word was more than just a word, more than just a hopeless ideal. It wasn't a captain's job, to battle his own crew. But if Zoro, this Zoro who wasn't Zoro at all anymore, if he wasn't stopped—if he couldn't be...

Zoro's fury wasn't burning out; it was rising, until his swords were blurs, so quickly did he swing them. Even just dodging back, Sanji couldn't move fast enough; the points grazed him, arm, cheek, leg, shedding single drops of crimson rain. The blood still left in his veins was singing in his ears, _this is it—_

The burst of strength wasn't unexpected; on the contrary, it was what all experienced fighters waited for, when pushed to the absolute limit, that moment when the body offers every last breath and pulse for the sake of continued life. Sanji leapt up and whirled like a top, one roundhouse kick and then another and another, toes touching the ground only long enough to launch the next strike. Faster then those swords could come down—his legs were all his own, not dead steel, and he moved quicker even than the swordsman, hammering Zoro's arms and torso before he could defend.

The attacker, suddenly attacked, and in his rage the swordsman was slower to shift his stance to the essential defense. Zoro was driven back a step under the assault, and then two, and then he ducked the next kick and brought up his swords, but Sanji had seen through him already, halted his next roundhouse between the blades to slam his heel down on his opponent's shoulder.

Zoro stumbled, and Sanji's following kick caught him in the belly, sending him staggering back, crouched and curled over, arms crossed over his stomach in instinctual protection. The swords in his fists were turned back in that moment, pointed uselessly behind him as the rain beat down on the slope of his back, the curve of his helplessly bowed head.

Sanji grinned, though he couldn't feel his numb cheeks move, and triumph tasted like the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. Raising his leg, he threw the final kick to lay the swordsman out in the mud.

And then there was the silvery ringing of a sword blade freed from its wooden sheath, and Zoro's head came up, with the white katana gleaming between his teeth, and his lips drawn into a wild grin behind it. He uncrossed his arms, sweeping the other swords back around, so the three blades met before him, and the axis of their triple intersection was Sanji.

Sanji had no chance to block the feint, no second to throw himself aside, just a single crystal instant that he knew failure. It tasted of the same blood as victory.

He thought he heard a scream, but it couldn't be him; there was no air in his chest, just pain. Then his shoulders crashed into stone, shattering against him as he smashed through the wall.

Sharp chunks of brick were falling on him, and mortar dust, and the rain; it all sounded the same. He wasn't breathing, couldn't hear his heartbeat. It didn't matter if his eyes were open; it was too dark to see anyway.

Someone kept screaming. It penetrated the rain so purely that he had to listen, the remaining fragments of his consciousness gathering to that cry, assembling it into sense. "—ji-kun! _Sanji-kun!_ You have to get up! _Sanji-kun! Get up now!!_ "

 _I'm trying, Nami-san, I swear to you, I'm trying_ —but his tongue wouldn't shape the words. Besides, it would be rude to interrupt a lady, and she was still shouting. His fingers worked, enough that Sanji could feel the wet, cold rubble shift against them. There were footsteps splashing in the mud, but they were too heavy to be Nami's. He pried open his eyes—

Zoro was there, standing over him, a shadow black against the black clouds, but for the moonlight glitter on the sword blades. The white katana in his mouth shone brightest of all, and even as they raised over him, Sanji's mouth curved in a smirk. Three swords, finally. Not a victory, but not a complete failure, even defeated, even with Nami screaming his name. Even if he would get no other chance, now or ever again—

And then, an instant before those blades fell, a rocket of red and tan and black slammed into Zoro's side and sent him flying, swords and all, so high that he crashed sideways into the eaves of a rooftop half a block away.

Strong hands closed around Sanji's arms, hauled his body up and propped his back against the broken wall, not gently but not rough, either, making sure he was steadily seated before letting go. Sanji blinked through his wet hair at the face before his, the hazy moonlight illuminating wide dark eyes and a flat, unsmiling mouth.

"Sanji, you okay?"

Speech was beyond the limited capacity of his lungs behind the cracked ribs. Sanji nodded to his captain instead.

"Good," Luffy said, with no cheer or relief, just absolute sincerity. "Hold this for me."

A grip around his right wrist raised his arm, and then something wet was shoved into his hand. Sanji grabbed it automatically, stiff and flat and smoothly ridged under his fingers, but the rough edge of the brim dug into his palm.

He looked down at the straw hat, opened his mouth, but Luffy's hand was on his shoulder, lightly and yet it held him down as inexorably as gravity, bound any words back in his broken chest. "Take care of it," his captain said, and then he stood, the hand leaving Sanji's shoulder.

Luffy walked into the street, long strides with his arms swinging, three steps, four, his sandals making sucking noises in the mud and the wind tangling his soaked black hair. Nine, ten, and then he stopped. In the darkness Sanji could only barely see him, and the larger shadow before him, with the three drawn swords.

"Zoro," Luffy said, and there was no hesitation. No plea, either, or pardon. "Nami said you were looking for me." Just plain statement. "So now I'm here."


	16. Chapter 16

"You will kill Monkey D. Luffy," Morgan said, and he said, "No," in return, for the tenth time, or the hundredth. Zoro didn't know anymore. Time must have passed, he thought, but he wasn't sure. Usually he could count the minutes as he counted strokes of his sword, or push-ups on the deck, but he couldn't move now, even to count off on his fingers, and the numbers wouldn't stay fixed in his mind. By the time he could think of three, he was unsure whether the previous number had actually been two.

Morgan's demand had stopped making sense long before. Zoro recognized the sounds of the words, but their meaning slipped through his grasp, same as the numbers. He said _no_ now only because he had every time before.

He was tired, though he couldn't sleep; if his eyes closed, Morgan would order them open again, and sluggishly he would obey. The roiling of his stomach could be hunger, or nausea, he wasn't sure; and the wounds on his neck throbbed with a distant, aching chill, like the numbness of frostbite. Two wounds, where the snake had bitten him, the first time, and then the next time, Morgan, holding the creature in his fist, pressing the fangs to his throat, while its thin coils thrashed futilely against his chest.

Morgan was shouting now; perhaps he had been for a while. Perhaps he had always been shouting. Sounds were almost as distant as the pain of the wounds, like Zoro was sinking underwater and that voice was only the shadow of a ship sailing over him, too far away to see or save him. He heard Morgan's punch hit his jaw before he felt it. Unless he wasn't feeling it at all, but only remembering the impact from the blows before.

"No," he said, with his numb tongue in his numb mouth, because it was what he had to say.

Morgan backed off, turned away. Zoro felt his eyes begin to close, couldn't stop them. He aimed to be the strongest in the world, but those lids were too heavy to lift. But Morgan opened them again with another blow he didn't really feel, another word he didn't really understand.

Morgan's hand was before his eyes, moving, squirming, long brown finger twisting in hypnotic loops. No, not his finger, but the snake. Its mouth gaped wide, fleshy pink with liquid glimmering on the needle fangs. Their sharp prick was the most real thing Zoro had felt in minutes, or maybe years, but too soon it was over, and he was sinking deeper.

Morgan spoke again, but Zoro didn't hear him. His eyes were still fixed open, but he couldn't see with them anymore. He should be able to keep time by his heartbeat, but it was barely audible, and getting slower, an inaccurate, irregular clock.

Some scrap of Morgan's speech drifted down to him where he was drowning, the syllables sparking memories in the darkness. A battered straw hat, a wild laugh. _Monkey D. Luffy_ , he knew that name. Not his own name; he knew it better than his own name. Roronoa Zoro might one day become the strongest swordsman, but that name would still be more famous than his, that man still greater.

In that moment he remembered what he refused, and why.

"I will never kill my captain," Zoro said, clearly, the last thing he said, before he dropped entirely out of the conscious, living world.

 

* * *

 

This was Monkey D. Luffy, standing before him; this was the captain of the Strawhat Pirates, and the man Zoro was here to kill.

Zoro picked himself up off the ground, splashed to his feet in the rubble, teeth locked and fists curled around the hilts of his swords.

He had been hunting Luffy for so long, but seeing him now, standing before him, was unreal, like a dream, like something that could never happen at all. The pirate had taken off the infamous straw hat, set it aside in the hands of his crewmember, and the rain flattened his hair over his forehead in black stripes. His brow was lowered, wide eyes narrowed, and his fists were clenched at his sides.

"Zoro," the pirate said, and strange as it had been to hear the rest of the crew say his name, this was the strangest of all. None of the pleading confusion of the others' voices could be heard in their captain's tone. Only anger in that single name, a fearsome, all-consuming rage to match his own.

What had he expected? He had attacked Luffy's crew, challenged and hurt his people. Hurt his pride. Pirate captains didn't care about their men's lives, but to defeat their crews was to illuminate their own weakness, that they could only get the weak to follow them.

 _—None of them had been weak, not the damn cook, not the reindeer monster, not the sniper with all his determination or the orange-haired girl with her staff or Nico Robin. That Zoro had been the stronger did not make them pathetic; he was the fighter, and they were not—_

And now, here was the monster Monkey D. Luffy, shorter and skinnier than most of his crew, a scrawny, soaked boy. But there was the terrible strength of a devil fruit in those wiry arms.

Watching Luffy, waiting for the coming attack, for a single terrifying instant of vertigo Zoro felt unprepared. Undefended, wide open. Like he was missing something—like he had lost something, like something unimaginably important had been taken from him.

But Wadou Ichimonji was between his teeth and his other two swords were in his hands and there was nothing else. Just the absolute rage in the pirate captain's glare.

Zoro braced himself, boots set against the slick cobblestone, then charged.

 

* * *

 

"Why are you here, Roronoa Zoro?"

There were brief flashes of clarity through the muddle, impressions more than memories. His jaw being pried open, so something bitter could be poured down his throat. "—the antidote. That third bite was too much even for you, Roronoa. Drink this, if you don't want to die."

"I'm not going to die." He couldn't die, not yet, not when he had not done everything he needed to do. Not the strongest yet.

He hadn't died. He had slept, and then fangs piercing his neck awoke him, though not completely. He couldn't fully awaken, for all he could open his eyes and speak; his mind was still somewhere behind the veil of dreams, where everything ran together and made such perfect sense that there was no way or reason to explain any of it.

"You're a pirate hunter," Morgan said, or maybe he was asking a question, or maybe the question hadn't been asked yet. He held up Zoro's wanted poster, tapped the reward listed at the bottom, all the zeroes. "Why would a pirate hunter sail with pirates? Why should a bounty hunter have his own bounty?"

"Earned that bounty," Zoro told him, not without pride. "Whiskey Peak, I fought them all."

"But why did you fight them? For whom did you defeat those men?"

"For them. My crewmates. Luffy and the others." Zoro frowned. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he had answered this before, explained this all already, but he couldn't be sure. Couldn't be sure of anything he said; phrases floated around him like ghosts, his words, Morgan's words, blurred together until it was hard enough just figuring out their meaning, much less recalling who had spoken them.

"So it's because of Luffy you have that bounty."

Of course it was. Why else? He was Luffy's swordsman, wasn't he?

"His fault. Monkey D. Luffy's fault. Say it."

"Luffy's fault," Zoro repeated.

"Who did you fight at Whiskey Peak, Roronoa Zoro?"

"Baroque Works—bounty hunters—"

"Who else? Who did you fight there, and fail to defeat?"

"Didn't..." Zoro knew the answer, but there was something wrong about saying it, even knowing it was true.

"Who?" Morgan asked again.

He had to answer, honestly, "Luffy."

"Monkey D. Luffy. The only pirate you've never defeated, besides Mihawk himself. Isn't that right, Roronoa Zoro?"

"That's not..." True, it sounded like it was, but it couldn't be true. Truth wouldn't make an honest man as angry as hearing that made him. A lie, somehow, a lie so terrible that it made Zoro see red, made him try to reach out and strike the man speaking it. Iron chains held his arms back, weighed him down; he struggled against them.

Morgan looked surprised, taking a step back before he recollected himself. "You're the pirate hunter. Why did you let a pirate escape undefeated—"

"Shut up!"

The chains rattled. He should be strong enough to break free of them, but for some reason (the snake, hissing in his memory) he barely had the power to raise his arms, his body heavier still than the iron, useless as a devil fruit eater's underwater.

"But you didn't let him escape, did you, Roronoa Zoro? You went with him—you went after him. Followed him." Morgan came closer again, looming over him, until he could see nothing but the man's iron jaw and the mad glitter of his eyes. "You're the pirate hunter. He's a pirate. You must hunt him. That's what you are. You must be hunting him."

"No," Zoro said; his tongue shaped the word easily, familiarly.

His body was bracing for a blow, but none came. Morgan only grabbed his chin, wrenched up his head so they were eye-to-eye. "You came here, to this island, because of him, didn't you? Why are you here, Roronoa Zoro? Whose fault is it that you are here?"

He didn't want to say it. He didn't even know why not, only that he shouldn't. Deep in his memory someone was saying his name, but he barely recognized the voice, or those merry black eyes.

"Why?" Morgan repeated, and slapped his cheek, but perfunctorily. Not punishing, as if he were only trying to wake him up. "Answer me. Whose fault is it that you're here?"

If he didn't speak he couldn't breathe. "Monkey D. Luffy."

It was like a crushing weight had been lifted. Like a light had gone out. He could breathe again. He could see nothing. Just Morgan's pale eyes.

"Who did you come here for? Who did you come here to hunt?" Morgan asked. "Answer me. Who are you hunting, Roronoa Zoro?"

There was only one answer. "Monkey D. Luffy."

"Good," Morgan said. "Very good," and he smiled.

 

* * *

 

" _Oni-Giri!_ "

Instead of fighting back, Luffy dodged Zoro's blow, stretching to grab the chimney across the street and catapulting out of the way.

It had only been an experimental strike, testing strengths; the real engagement had yet to begin. Zoro straightened from the attack's finishing stance and turned to face the pirate. As a bounty hunter, he could offer the chance of surrender now, but it would not be taken.

He could feel eyes at his back, the woman, the cook, watching them, huddled in the rain. They wouldn't interfere. Nothing they could do now anyway.

"You mean it," the captain said. Luffy had landed crouched, straightened up slowly and did not strike back, not right away. He asked no questions, just received the answers given in Zoro's attack. And his voice was even, though his fists balled at his sides were shaking with his anger. "You're serious.

"I told you once, Zoro, a while ago," the captain said, his voice low and shaking like his fists. "If I ever got in the way of you being the strongest, you could kill me. That was your right, always."

Luffy raised his head, and his eyes flashed. " _But not them._ Even if they got in your way. I never said you could hurt any of them. I'm going to fight you, Zoro."

Of course. As they had to, as they had always been meant to. Predator and prey, pirate hunter and pirate captain. There had never been any doubt.

"Good," Zoro said, and raised his swords again, as Luffy charged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _to be continued..._
> 
> No, really, it will be. X my heart. I can't promise when, but it will be completed. Never give up, never surrender! ...Or something of the sort.
> 
> Great to know people are keeping the faith - thank you so much for all the ff.net reviews! Wow, over 300 - you guys rock! And most of you have been really nice about it, very understanding - I don't mind the gentle reminders that you're waiting, helps motivate me! As a fanfic reader myself, I do know where you're coming from...and the frustration is worse as the author, to not have the time to write as much as I'd like. But rest assured, I'm not dropping this story - and I hope y'all continue to enjoy it!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, time to finish this! Hey, it's only been...5 years?

Usopp ran down the muddy streets.

More accurately, Usopp stumbled down the streets, hurrying no more than a few steps at a time before staggering to the brick wall along the road and propping himself against it while he tried to catch his breath.

But then, as far as Usopp was concerned, accuracy was vastly overrated. He told himself he was running, and that was a better story than whatever he might actually be doing.

He was good at running; it had always been one of his talents. Not usually _towards_ the danger, true, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

And these were desperate times. Maybe the most desperate they'd come up against yet.

He folded his arms tighter across his bandaged chest, wincing, trying to stop shivering. Shivering just made the pain worse, like each tremor was tearing him open a little more. Which it might be, for all he knew; Chopper had warned him to be careful about the stitches. But there were enough of them anyway that if a couple broke even the careful doctor probably wouldn't notice.

It wasn't like Usopp had any choice in this, no matter what Chopper had instructed. Their other crewmates needed to know what had happened to Zoro; and with Robin and Chopper busy taking care of Morgan and the marines, Usopp was the only one available to spread the word.

 _"Wait here until we get back,"_ Chopper had told him, but Usopp couldn't afford to wait; none of them could. Sitting around in a dusty dry room— _dry_ being the key word—while his nakama all were risking their lives...there were times Usopp had been called a coward that he hadn't been able to deny it (truthfully, at least); but coward or not, it wasn't in him to do that. Not to just wait patiently, when everyone else was outside, doing their best.

Even if it had been dry inside that house. Marvelously, completely, undeniably dry. He hadn't really appreciated their time in Arabasta's desert before this...

Usopp pushed bedraggled and sopping black curls out of his eyes; his kerchief was half-off and his wet hair was getting everywhere. Not that he could see much further through the darkness even without that obstruction. The cuffs of his overalls had also started to unroll, dragging in the mud under his boots and tripping him.

He dwelled at length on all those annoyances, because cursing and whining about them took that much of his attention off the stab wound in his chest. The numbness of Chopper's palliative potion had worn off a while ago. If Usopp let himself think about the wound, about how much it burned for all that his skin under the soaked bandages was freezing, every single stitch throbbing with its own distinct measure of agony, then he wouldn't be able to move at all. Even with Chopper's care, he was going to have quite a scar.

Where could he say he got it? Not from Zoro, obviously; how embarrassing would that be, to have been attacked by his own nakama? Not to mention the effect on Zoro's reputation, if it got out that a pirate he'd attacked survived...no, that wouldn't do at all. If anyone asked...not the pirate hunter. Midget pirates, he could say, the ferocious pirates of WillyWag...like fierce sharks, they had borne down, not one of them tall enough to reach higher than his stomach...

Usopp briefly wondered if maybe he was delirious, with his thoughts racing like this. But Chopper had treated him for infection and fever, and besides his thoughts always raced like this. Maybe he should ask the doctor for a potion for that—

He took the resounding crash for thunder at first, though he hadn't noticed any lightning, and when he looked up he didn't notice any bolts flashing between the dark clouds—even as there was another crash, even louder. Not a storm but the crack and rumble of shattered brick and splintered timber, commotion he'd gotten quite conversant with since he'd set off sailing with Luffy and everyone else. Off to his left, and Usopp almost instinctively turned right at the next corner, but stopped himself.

Zoro wouldn't be smashing down houses just for the heck of it, even brainwashed and hypnotized—so if it was him, he must be fighting someone. One of the crew? Or had Zoro been found by the marines on the island that Axe-hand Morgan had talked about? Maybe they'd attacked Zoro—maybe that had snapped him out of it, reminded him who his real enemies were—

Then over the rain a rising shout cut through the wet night, " _Gomu gomu no bazooka!_ " And usually that cry would've made Usopp cheer, would've inspired him to charge into any danger, knowing they were going to win—but hearing it now Usopp froze, one arm pressed against his throbbing chest. For all that the wound didn't hurt nearly as much as the cold fist suddenly squeezing around his heart.

It could still be the marines, Usopp reminded himself; Luffy would certainly take them on, if he'd come across them—of course, it had to be the marines. This was Zoro, after all, who never could find his way anywhere; and Luffy, who never followed any ordinary route, and it was a large town; what were the odds that they'd run into each other? And even if they did, Luffy wouldn't fight Zoro, just because Zoro wanted to pick a fight—it had to be the marines.

Rallied, Usopp picked up the pace as best his battered body could manage, going against every instinct he had—every non-heroic instinct, anyway, otherwise known as common sense—to head down the street, toward that shout and the accompanying cacophony of massive property damage. Maybe it wasn't even marines, he thought as he hobbled along. Maybe Luffy had just gotten lost and decided to take a more direct route back to the ship. And had found the rooftops too slippery in the rain, so was going through them instead, and once Usopp found him they could look for their other nakama together...

Usopp reached the next corner just in time to see half of a two-story building go down at the other end of the block. The rain beat down the dust rising from the debris, falling steadily on the two figures in the midst of it. It was too far away to make out faces or figures in the darkness and the rain—would have been hard even in bright sunlight, with the speed they were moving. One charged the other, slamming into him with such force that he was thrown into the half of the wall still standing—not standing for long, though, the brick crumbling under the impact, collapsing around him—

It was so far from what Usopp had expected to see—had hoped to see—that for a moment he couldn't make any sense of what was before his eyes. Wasn't it patently impossible, after all—absurd to think that the figure under the falling wall was armed with three silver blades, ridiculous to imagine that any swordsman could slice apart the bricks pelting him as if they were made of cheese. As absurd as the other figure being able to stretch his arms ten times further than any ordinary man's, before smashing them forward again with a shouted, _"Gomu gomu no—!"_

"N-no," Usopp stammered through chattering teeth, "this isn't—it's just my imagination..." He staggered forward a few more steps, staring at the sight down the street, willing it to change. He must be delirious after all, feverish from the wound, or maybe it was hypothermia—he was seeing things that weren't there, that couldn't be there. He was having a nightmare, that was all—that explained this whole night, just a bad dream. Maybe Sanji's last batch of cupcakes had gone bad, or else he'd spilled turpentine on his pillow again...

"Usopp?"

Usopp heard the voice an instant after he registered movement out of the corner of his eye, and by then it was too late; he'd already jumped back. Or tried to, but he tripped over his clumsy feet and his bag slipped down on his shoulder and bumped into his stitched-up chest, a shooting pang so fierce that it whited out his vision for a moment. Hunched over gasping, he momentarily forgot Zoro and Luffy and the rain and everything but the desperate need for it to stop, please, for the love of Davy Jones, just stop hurting—

"—Usopp? Usopp, what's wrong?"

A hand slipped under his elbow, and Usopp leaned into that support, the pain subsiding as he caught his breath. His conscious mind caught up a bit after that, identifying the warm curves he was slumped against. "N-nami?"

"Yes, it's me—did you hit your head or something? Don't tell me you're going crazy, too—"

"Oh, good," Usopp said, relieved—Robin had told them Nami was okay, but hearing his nakama's voice now was as strengthening as one of Chopper's potions would have been.

"What are you talking about?" Nami demanded. "What's good about any of this? And what are you doing here? You were hurt, I thought Chopper was taking care of you—"

"He d-did." Usopp couldn't stop his teeth from chattering—he hoped Nami knew it was just from the chilly rain, not because he was scared. "But then he had s-something to do, with Robin—"

"Robin was with you? How's she doing?" Nami demanded urgently. She was walking to the side of the street, pulling Usopp along with her—or more dragging him, really; he _could_ stand on his own, but it easier to lean against Nami, and since she hadn't pushed him off yet...

"Robin's..." Usopp nearly said 'okay,' but it was too big a lie even for him; none of them were okay, not now.

As if to prove it, the cobblestones under their feet quaked as the brick wall of another house a block away came down—not smashed apart by the blow of a body but quartered by three impossibly strong swords. The figure that strike was aimed at only just dodged in time, springing up into the sky. The building wasn't nearly as nimble.

"We're lucky this is the wealthy side of town," Nami muttered as the other three walls folded in with creaking thuds. "No one's home now; they're all vacationing somewhere sunny." She lead Usopp over to the eaves of a house that was, so far anyway, still standing. The low overhanging roof provided a little shelter from the rain, as well as protective shadows—not that they really needed the protection; their two nakama down the street were locked in combat, no attention to spare for anything else.

Usopp tightened his hand on Nami's arm. "Nami—about Robin, and Chopper, we found—"

"Robin-chan?" Usopp had taken the shape against the bricks under the eaves for a shadow or a water stain, but on closer inspection it proved to be a figure in a black suit. A soaked and torn black suit, and Sanji was sitting slumped against the wall, bruised and bloody and with his legs stretched out straight before him as if he were too tired to pull them in out of the rain. But his head was up, watching them from under dripping blond bangs. "What about Robin-chan?"

"She's with Chopper," Usopp said, "and they're—" Bending over to sit strained his stitches and he hissed through clenched teeth, all his willpower dedicated to keeping himself from whimpering.

"—Usopp?" Nami was asking when he could focus again. At least he was sitting now. Her hand was on his shoulder, about to shake him, but Sanji stopped her.

"Be careful, Nami-san; he was hurt pretty bad. Chopper had to sew him up like a stuffed goose."

Nami's hand on his arm stilled, the pressure of her palm a welcome spot of warmth seeping through the damp oilcloth of his poncho. "I didn't realize it was...Zoro did that much?"

"Ran him straight through," Sanji said grimly, before Usopp could deny it was anything. "The bastard could've..." He trailed off, shifting his hands in his lap.

Sanji was holding something, Usopp noticed, his arms folded over it as if to protect it from the rain.

Nami shook her head "I don't understand. Why would he do this? To any of us?"

"It's not Zoro's fault," Usopp said, so vehemently that it caught in his throat and set off a painful coughing fit. Sanji patted his back to help dispel it, his other hand still splayed over the straw hat in his lap—Luffy's hat, Usopp realized; Sanji was protecting that precious possession while Luffy fought out in the rain for him, for all of them...

Sanji and Nami were both staring at him, confused. They didn't know yet; they thought that Zoro was doing this of his own volition, that their nakama had willingly turned on them. However much Usopp was hurting now, it must be as bad for them, or worse.

Choking back another cough, Usopp drew the deepest breath he could manage, and said as steadily and convincingly as possible—had to sound convincing, had to make sure that they heard the truth, and didn't take it for a lie just because he was the one saying it—"That's what we were doing, Chopper and Robin and I, and that's why I came to find you—we figured out what happened to Zoro..."


	18. Chapter 18

"Which way?" Robin asked when they reached the next street corner, as calmly as if they were taking a stroll through a rose garden. Chopper didn't know how she could be so composed, especially when her face was pale with cold, her lips starting to take on a tinge that matched his nose. But her steps were steady and she wasn't shivering, not even the extra pair of bare arms that she had hooked under Axe-hand Morgan's iron chin, ready to act if he tried anything.

Not that he was going to—Chopper kept a careful watch just in case, but the mesmerang serpent's venom was still in the man's bloodstream, his eyelids drooping over his dilated pupils and his breathing even and slow, not much above a trance state. The ex-captain wasn't flinching or shivering in the rain, either; his depressed systems would be more vulnerable to hypothermia, but Chopper couldn't quite bring himself to care about that.

Morgan was moving slower, however, in walking and everything else, and that was a problem. "Which way to the Marine's secret cove?" Robin repeated when Morgan didn't answer right away, and one of the hands budding from his shoulders slapped the man's cheek above the metal jaw, a wet smack that made Chopper jump.

Morgan blinked, lifted his non-axe hand and waved vaguely off toward their right. "Over there..."

Robin nodded and strode off down the street. Chopper gave Morgan a push on the shoulder to get him stumbling after her, breaking into a jog himself to keep up—his human stride wasn't a match to hers, but he didn't dare revert to Walk Point or Brain Point, not when they might have to fight at any time.

Truthfully Chopper didn't quite know what they were going to do when they found the Marine ship. Presumably Robin did, since it had been her idea to go after them; but he'd been too nervous to ask. The ferocious controlled calm with which Robin had questioned Morgan had been almost scarier than the look in Zoro's eyes, because Chopper knew Robin was on their side, not brainwashed or hypnotized or anything. Just—well, she hadn't _looked_ angry, Robin never seemed get angry; but watching her then, and the forceful way she was striding down the street now, Chopper wondered if she might be.

Or else maybe she was just tired, and trying to get everything taken care of as soon as possible, so she could rest. With Robin it was hard to tell.

Chopper kept his ears cocked and his nose sniffing the air, but in his human form neither was as sensitive as it should be. He didn't smell the iron-and-gunpowder stench of the Marines, not until they turned the next corner and found themselves facing a squad of two dozen men in white uniforms, armed with swords and guns.

The only reason at first that Chopper didn't turn tail and run was because he was momentarily frozen in shock, like a half-reindeer in headlights. By the time he recovered, he realized that Robin wasn't going anywhere; his nakama was still standing beside Morgan, facing the Marine squad as unflustered as ever. So Chopper drew himself up, taller than any of the men, squared his gorilla-broad shoulders and tried to pretend he was as strong and brave as Luffy or Captain Usopp.

"Ah, you captured Nico Robin after all—excellent!" From the back of the squad, safely insulated behind his troops, stepped a gaunt, curly-haired man in a fancy white cloak, bedecked in embroidery and shiny buttons. A pair of gold pince-nez sat on his nose and a wet, bedraggled peacock feather drooped from his wide-brimmed hat. He had to be the commodore Morgan had mentioned; only Marine officers could dress like that.

Rubbing his gloved hands together in anticipation, the commodore strode forward through the ranks. He glanced up at Chopper, inquired with a malicious smirk, "And who's this one—another hire, Morgan? Or should I say, another victim—"

"I wouldn't," Robin said, calmly as ever, as she raised her arms—and twenty-five matching pairs of slender arms sprouted from the shoulders of the Marines, twisting under their arms to lock under their throats in a grappling hold, not quite choking, but stopping the men in their tracks.

The commodore wasn't spared; he flailed at the arms around his neck, knocking off the pince-nez into the mud, as he squawked, "You didn't restrain the devil woman? Morgan, what on earth were you thinking—"

"He wasn't," Chopper told the Marine, giving Morgan a push. The big man rocked onto one foot and then back onto two without resisting, like a punching bag. "He's _our_ victim. We made his snake bite him instead. So you better listen to us, or we won't give you the antivenin to save him!"

"Is that so," said the commodore. Robin's arms were still around his neck, forcing his head back at an awkward angle, but the man smirked anyway, grinning up into the rain. "Well then, I owe you thanks for sparing me the trouble. We were just on the way to take care of him ourselves, you see."

"Take care of him?" Chopper echoed, confused.

"You only went along with the ex-captain's scheme to advance your own plans," Robin said. "Whether or not he succeeded, you had no intention of granting him the pardon you promised."

The commodore rolled his eyes. "Naturally. I hardly have the influence to get a pardon for such a felonious thug. At least not now—it will be a different story after tonight. But now that Morgan's plan's come to fruition, there's really no point to mentioning him, is there? He's too weak to be of any help with you lot—look at how easily you subdued him. His influence over Roronoa Zoro was convenient, but it's served its purpose. Roronoa's engaged Monkey D. Luffy, according to the last report I received; it's only a matter of waiting for the resolution of that altercation, and then I can claim my reward. Dead or alive, however that works out."

"What?" Chopper said, feeling like he'd been punched, or stabbed like Usopp earlier. "Zoro's really fighting Luffy? But...but they wouldn't...!"

The commodore peered up at Chopper from the corner of his eye, unable to turn his head further than Robin's chokehold would permit. "Oh, so you're one of the Strawhat crew after all? Well, even without a bounty you might be worth something..."

"Whether Roronoa Zoro or the captain-san wins their fight, they'll both be weakened by it," Robin said coolly. "And you'll take that opportunity to capture both of them."

"In the best-case scenario," the commodore said. "In the worst case, they'll slay one another, and I'll get the reduced bounty pay-out for bringing in corpses—the World Government does like to make its public examples. But your head will still fetch me a fair reward, and I'll pick up a bit for old Axe-hand. That should be enough to get me that promotion my charmingly inept superiors keep dangling just out of reach."

"That was your plan?" Chopper would have been sickened the cold-bloodedly greedy dishonor of it even if the Marine hadn't been talking about his nakama.

"Very clever," Robin said. Her voice was calm, but colder than the rain. "There's only one flaw in it—you're our captive now, not our captor," and she brought up her arms across her chest.

The pale arms hooked around the commodore's neck tightened, as did all those around his troops' throats. Puddles splashed as men fell to their knees in the muddy wet street.

The commodore's voice was forced into a strangled wheeze, though his blanching lips were still pulled back from his teeth in a death's-head smirk. "Oh, am I?" he asked, and moved his hand—Chopper didn't see what he did exactly, but the arms around his neck suddenly disappeared, and Robin gasped aloud.

"Robin!" Chopper shouted. "What did you do?" and he charged the commodore.

Robin narrowed her eyes, closing her hands into fists as she shouted, " _Clutch!_ " and a sharp crack echoed through the night as two dozen Marine troops simultaneously dropped.

Chopper swung a wild punch at the commodore, who ducked in a whirl of embroidered white finery, then flung aside his cape to reveal—

"Doctor-san, look out!"

Chopper stumbled to the side as Robin shoved him hard, out of the way, just as the commodore flung something at them. His cloak, Chopper took it for at first; was he just trying to block their vision? But no, it was thinner than that, gauzy silk netting, so fine as to be translucent and nearly invisible in the rain.

Sweeping up her arms, Robin rapped out, " _Ocho fleur!_ "

As eight of her arms sprouted from the commodore, the net draped over her—as if that would do any good, when the other arms she'd grown were still free, grabbing at the officer's limbs to drag him to the ground—

Then those extra arms vanished, freeing the commodore—and Robin fell instead, crumpling under the net as if she'd been flattened by a load of invisible bricks.

"Robin!" Chopper cried, grabbing hold of the net to pull it off. But its delicate silk filaments, strung through with sparkling chips of rock, had already tangled around her. And as soon Chopper himself touched the webbing he staggered, his strength suddenly sapped, leaving him as lightheaded as if he'd been suffocated.

"Oh-ho," said the marine commodore behind him. "So you're a devil-fruit user as well. Lucky I came prepared for you monsters; sea-stone's pricey but worth it—"

Under the net Robin was pale and trembling with the effort to sit up, forcing herself up on her shaky arms as she stared up at Chopper. "Doctor-san," she started to say, but at the commodore's words her eyes widened and she looked past Chopper to cry out, "Captain Morgan! Stop the commodore!"

"Stop," Morgan mumbled, dully confused, but he brought up his axe-handed arm as he stumbled forward.

He didn't swing with any great skill, but wielding an axe doesn't demand precision. The commodore scrambled out of the way of the massive sharpened blade, yelling, "Morgan, cease this at once! I'm a Marine officer—I order you!"

"Doctor-san," Robin shouted over the commodore, gesturing at Chopper from under the net, "run, now!"

"But—" Chopper stumbled back. "But you're—"

"I'll be fine," Robin told him, looking him in the eye, "as long as I know you're safe—go!"

"Robin!" Chopper cried, changing to his regular reindeer form. "I'll get everybody—Zoro, too—and we'll come save you! I promise!"

He waited until he saw Robin nod, her calm, sure smile shadowing her lips as she said, "I'll count on you, Doctor-san." Then he took off down the street, galloping through puddles and leaving both his nakama and the Marines behind.

 

* * *

 

The story that spilled out of Usopp, with its poisonous snakes and vengeance-driven ex-marines, was certainly outrageous enough to be one of his lies. The only reason Sanji was inclined to believe it was because they were currently witnessing Zoro fighting Luffy, absolutely seriously and with lethal intent, and that truth was more outrageous than anything even Usopp could imagine.

"So Chopper and Robin are handling the Marines," Usopp finished. "Which means it's up to us to take care of—this," and he nodded with vague, speechless horror at Luffy and Zoro and the next doomed house that had tragically come between them. If not for long.

"We have to tell Luffy," Nami said, standing up, as if she intended to march over to talk to their captain on the spot. "He has to know—if he understands what's happened to Zoro, he can stop this stupid fight right now—"

"Um, Nami-san," Sanji said, trying to figure out how to tell her that, as logical and noble as her idea was—as they always were—in this case it was slightly, just a tiny bit, infinitesimally—

"Impossible," Usopp said. "It's not like they're going to stop to talk to us. Either of them—Zoro's brainwashed, he's not going to listen; and if Luffy tried to stop then...then he might..."

"Then the stupid swordsman would slice him into rubber bands," Sanji said. His bruises and cracked ribs were throbbing, but worse was the churning in his gut. He folded his hands over the crown of the straw hat in his lap, running his fingers over the smooth-grained weave. "That idiot—how shit do your brains have to be, to get mind-controlled by a shitty snake?"

"Chopper said that it's not the venom anymore," Usopp said quietly. "It's all in Zoro's head now—whatever suggestions Morgan put there, they're blocking everything else. Like a wall, or a shadow over his memories, so he can't see us anymore. If we could break through that...but Chopper didn't know how. We were kind of hoping that the shock of actually seeing Luffy, fighting him, would be enough, but..."

Sanji was relieved when Nami sank back down beside them, hunkering down with her arms wrapped around her knees under her poncho. "At least it's brainwashing, and not...not what Zoro wanted to do." She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, then turned her head to look down the street. "But still, this..."

Sanji followed her gaze. The fight had moved further down the block but still in sight, and close enough to hear Luffy's _"Gomu gomu no gatling!"_ as he threw a flurry of rubber-band punches. Zoro, the obstinate bastard, didn't even bother blocking; he dodged some and took the rest of the blows head on as he charged in for another strike, three swords whirling like a tornado of blades. Sanji's stomach clenched—one slip-up, one lucky hit—

But Luffy was too fast. With his next punch he stretched one arm far past Zoro to grab onto a chimney on the rooftop behind him and slingshot out of the way before Zoro could land a strike.

Usually Sanji would be appreciating his captain's crazy but effective techniques—usually it was entertaining to watch the dawning realization on his opponents' faces, as they began to understand the force they were dealing with. Usually he would have a grudging admiration for Zoro's swordsmanship—Sanji didn't fight with blades himself, but he'd used enough kitchen knives to have an appreciation for the violent efficacy of the three swords style. Not that he'd ever admit such to Zoro, of course.

Sanji had grown up with pirates, with the reckless pride of a man's duel, and the respect that can grow from blows and battle. He knew how brawling can strengthen friendship as much as muscles, how a good fight can tell you more about where you stand with a guy than any profession of affection.

But there was nothing friendly about this fight, no understanding exchange of respect, and no honor in a duel that neither of those fighting would want, not normally. Their true enemy wasn't even here, and neither of them even knew it, and Sanji would have laughed at the idiocy of it if he could have managed to do so without throwing up.

Beside him, Usopp's head was down, the hood of his poncho hiding his face but for his nose, shielding his eyes from the sight of their nakama. Sanji couldn't blame him.

"All right, that's enough!" Nami snapped on Usopp's other side, clapping her hands together sharply. "There's got to be something we can do. Even if we can't get through to Zoro, we can still help Luffy..."

Usopp lifted his head enough to look at Sanji with miserable dismay, his face wan and drawn. Sanji sighed, said, "Nami-san, this is their fight—"

" _No._ " Nami lifted her chin. Her body might have been hidden under a shapeless poncho and her hair matted down with the rain, but the resolve flashing in her eyes transformed her usual unsurpassed beauty into the breathtaking splendor of a goddess. "This _isn't_ their fight, not when it's not a fight they should be having at all. That bastard Morgan didn't just attack Zoro; he's attacked _all_ of us.

"The guy up there fighting Luffy now—that's not Zoro; that's Morgan using Zoro's swords, only Luffy doesn't know it. And we can't just sit here and watch him or Zoro do something that they'd regret after this is over. Zoro's still our nakama—Luffy's, and mine, and yours, too, Sanji-kun, Usopp," and she pointed at each of them in turn. "Won't you regret it, if you don't do something now?"

"Yes, Nami-san!" Sanji agreed eagerly and automatically; it wasn't until after the declaration left his lips that he understood how true it was.

"Yeah," Usopp said, and by the grim determination in his voice he'd realized it before he spoke. "I'd always regret it."

"Damn straight," Nami said, folding her arms under her poncho. "So—what are we going to do?"

Sanji groped at his jacket pocket, with difficulty took out his pack of cigarettes and extracted one soggy stick. It probably wouldn't hold a light even if his matches were dry, but he put it into his mouth anyway. The taste of tobacco when he bit down gave him a tiny but needed boost, settling his stomach and clearing his head. "We can't just get in between them and yell time out..."

"Or else we'd end up like one of those houses," Nami agreed, nodding at the accruing property damage at the other end of the street.

"And so would Luffy," Sanji said, "if he takes his mind off the fight for a second—that brainwashed bastard of a swordsman's not cutting him any slack."

"What if Zoro was distracted?" Usopp asked. "Could you hold him off for a minute, Sanji, give me or Nami a chance to talk to Luffy?"

"No," Nami said firmly, before Sanji could answer. "He can't. Sanji-kun's almost as hurt as you are, Usopp, even if he's pretending to be okay; he can't face Zoro directly again."

Sanji straightened up, steeling his abdomen to suppress the spasms of pain from his cracked ribs. "It's really not that bad, Nami-san—"

Nami's beauteous glare cut him off promptly. "I saw what he did to you, Sanji-kun. And if I'm the one getting close enough to talk to Luffy, I want a better plan than 'hope Zoro stays busy beating on Sanji-kun long enough for me to run away'."

Sanji wanted to protest that he would protect her—which he would, of course, always; but if the damn ribs slowed him down... No, Nami was right; she couldn't risk her life like that.

"But maybe there's another way to distract Zoro," Nami said. "I can't make a mirage with my Clima-Tact in this rain, but if I could raise a dense fog ..."

Sanji shook his head. "That's a great idea, Nami-san, but the way they're going at it now, they wouldn't notice if you blinded them. Zoro's using all three swords; he's fighting all out, not pulling any damn punches. And Luffy's matching him—hell, even if we can distract the stupid swordsman, Luffy's too worked up to pay attention to us, or listen to what we have to tell him."

"But there has to be a way to get through to them—"

"A-actually," Usopp said—his teeth had started chattering, which Sanji didn't like the sound of; the rain wasn't that cold—"maybe there's a way to kill two birds with one stone...or three birds, that it..."

Nami winced. "Don't say 'kill'!"

"Sorry," Usopp said. "But..." He trailed off.

Sanji allowed him a generous ten seconds to put his thoughts in order, then demanded, "So? What's the idea?"

Usopp looked down. "Ah...forget it. The only way we could pull it off would be to lure Zoro into a trap. And we can't do that if we can't even get his attention..."

"Leave that to me," Sanji said.

Both Usopp and Nami looked at him. "Hey," Sanji said, taking his soggy cigarette out of his mouth to smirk at them, "I might not be up for fighting that shit-for-brains swordsman, and maybe he's not using his right brains anyway—but if that's the real marimo, then brainwashed or amnesiac or whatever, I _guarantee_ I can still piss him off."


	19. Chapter 19

The officer was only a commodore. If he'd been a vice admiral—or god help them a full admiral...but an admiral wouldn't bother with these petty games, much less stomach taking help from an exiled captain like Morgan. The commodore, in his soggy, bedraggled finery, was a pathetic figure, even as he turned up his nose at her. Robin did not fear him, couldn't muster the passion for hatred.

Oh, he was cunning enough; his nets were a clever trick. Cunning, and wealthy, too, to be able to afford so many sea-stone shards. If Robin had been ready for it, she might've been able to resist long enough to tear free; but taken by surprise, and still weakened from her dip in the ocean, she was rendered all but helpless, unable to prevent the Marines from tying the accursed net around her wrists and neck. She might be able to pick the knots, but with her hands behind her back and the fatigue of the sea-stone weighing on her it would be no easy task.

At least Chopper had managed to escape. When Robin had felt the sea-stone's touch, she'd feared that the doctor would be caught as well. Commanding Morgan had been a last-ditch act of desperation, but Chopper was clever, and fast as well. Watching him gallop away, the hapless Marines sprinting far behind him, had been the most encouraging sight of all this long and troubling night.

Facing the Marines had been a priority, but she should have insisted that the doctor stay with Usopp rather than accompany her. He'd been difficult to deter, however. And there was a new weakness in Robin—or else a strength; she had yet to determine—that for the first time in her life she found herself reluctant to go alone, when she might have a crewmate with her.

No point in dwelling on that now; Chopper had successfully escaped. And the commodore, for all his cunning and sea-stone, was hardly the threat she'd feared. Robin could have laughed, watching the miserable man picking his way through the muddy streets, staining his expensive and one-time polished calf boots. He was no match for Luffy, or Zoro, or any of her crewmates. And his squad was half the size it had been, the rest taken out of commission by her attack.

"Sorry, sir," the pair of troops who had attempted to pursue Chopper reported, saluting through the rain as they panted for breath. "We lost track of the, er, the deer."

 _Reindeer_ , Robin mentally corrected, though she forbore saying it aloud.

"A beast that size? Fools!" The commodore sniffed. "Oh, very well, forget him for now. We have Nico Robin; we'll soon have the other two bounties as well. You," and he pointed at random to four men, "take this woman back to the ship."

"Um..." the men mumbled, glancing at her sidelong. Robin was quite accustomed to those uneasy looks—her powers tended to unnerve even those who hadn't just been attacked by them. But at their officer's glare, they gulped and stepped up. "Yes, sir!"

Back on the ship they might have sea-stone cuffs, and escape would be difficult regardless, surrounded by water. Robin suppressed an involuntary shiver, thinking of those cold waves. But she kept her voice steady and light as she inquired, "Are you sure, Commodore, that you can spare so many men to guard me, when you aim to take in a hundred-million beri pirate?"

"Ah, of course, what was I thinking? One soldier's good enough to escort the likes of you..." The commodore stepped closer to her, peering at her down the length of his nose through his pince-nez. One lens was cracked from when it had fallen off before. "Is that what you want me to say, Nico Robin? A sorry gambit—and here I thought you were supposed to be an intelligent woman."

"No gambit, merely a question," Robin said. "Do you truly believe you can capture Strawhat Luffy, even weakened, with less than a dozen men?"

The officer's eyes narrowed. "So what would you _suggest_ that I do? Leave you in the care of a rookie you'd snap the neck of the moment you untied that net?"

The Marines nearest her all swallowed again, taking a step back.

Robin shrugged. "I can't say; I was only pointing out a potential problem. Though honestly it exists regardless; even if you spared no troops to watch me, you'd still only have fourteen men. And I can tell you now, that won't be enough."

"Is that so," the commodore said. "In that case, it would help to have another fighter on our side, wouldn't it? Perhaps another devil fruit user, to counter that Strawhat monster."

"Oh?" Robin arched her eyebrows.

The officer whirled toward Morgan, standing as before motionless in the rain, an inactive mound of flesh, with the mesmerang's venom holding sway over his mind. "Captain Morgan," the commodore rapped out, "where were you holding Roronoa Zoro? Take us there at once." He turned back to Robin, a gruesome smile curving his thin lips. "There's another pirate here who could use some...persuasion to join the side of justice."

 

* * *

 

" _Gomu gomu no Bullet!_ "

Monkey D. Luffy's fist came down hard—more like a sledgehammer than a rubber mallet, shattering the cobblestone. Zoro dodged, throwing himself to the side. He'd already figured out not to try to block that blow. Usually a blade against bare hands had a significant advantage, since most fighters would try to avoid getting cut, would pull punches met with a sharp side of steel.

Strawhat Luffy wasn't most fighters; he seemed to feel that landing a hit was worth a little blood. And a parrying sword didn't have the mass to match a punch with the whole body behind it. Zoro didn't think he'd cracked a rib yet, but his bruised chest still throbbed over the surging adrenaline. If not enough to slow his sword arms—because if the Strawhat captain was a monster, then Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro could be no less than his quarry.

This was it, the fight he'd so long been waiting for. Seeking all this rainy night, and before—weeks, months, however long it had been. And the pirate didn't disappoint—he was even stronger now than Zoro remembered, that much faster, that much more furious. Zoro had met few enough pirates who were worthy of drawing all three of his swords, but he didn't dare sheathe Wadou Ichimonji now.

Strawhat rebounded from his punch, high into the air, and whipped out his leg as he fell, the kick whistling through the rain. Zoro hopped that ridiculously extended shin like he was skipping rope and landed already charging, swords ready.

How long had it been since he'd fought all-out like this? Not a spare second to catch his breath or wipe the rain and sweat from his eyes. If Zoro faltered a single step in his defense, he would be smashed under the rubber-man's assault; if he hesitated a fraction of a second to strike, then he'd fail to land a single blow.

—But why would he hesitate? Monkey D. Luffy was his enemy; the only reason Zoro was here was to take him down.

Zoro thrust sideways with his paired swords. Strawhat bent himself out of the way of the attack with a wrench of his rubber body, but ended up at the wrong angle to avoid the finisher. Twisting his head, Zoro slashed out with the katana gripped in his teeth. The blade sliced a bloody gash across the rubber bicep, and the pirate screeched with pain.

Then Strawhat's other fist came around and slammed into Zoro's face, smashing him headlong through the brick wall behind them. The hurricane of punches that followed brought down the rest of the building, forcing Zoro to blunt his blades on the tumbling brick before it pummeled him.

Their confrontation before, at Whiskey Peak, was nothing compared to this battle. And this time nothing would interrupt them—

—What had interrupted them before? How had that fight ended, that both of them had walked away? It wasn't as if Zoro would've quit, or ever surrendered to a pirate; and monster though the Strawhat captain might be, he was no coward. What could've come between them?

Why couldn't he remember?

Amid the falling brick, Zoro almost didn't see the feet shooting towards him, sandaled soles slapped together and toes pointed—an absurd attack, but the blow could've broken his arm if he hadn't ducked out of the way in time. He brought down Sandai Kitetsu in time to cut the extended rubber calf as it snapped back past him, and the Strawhat captain yelled again in anger as much as pain.

Zoro shook his head, scattering rain, and threw himself once more at his foe, even as he cursed himself for letting idle thoughts distract him. It didn't matter what had happened at Whiskey Peak; what had been started then would finish here. He would end it once and for all this night, and nothing would interrupt him—

" _Oi, shitty swordsman! Over here!_ "

Mid-air, leaping at the Strawhat captain, Zoro heard that shout, and glanced down the street.

He was peripherally aware of the Strawhat crew members, enough to know that the fighting cook and the navigator girl hadn't gone far—maybe because they wanted to see their captain fight, or maybe they'd just been too weak to run. They didn't matter anyway, too far away to interfere.

Besides, every time he took a step in their direction, Monkey D. Luffy was there, cutting him off, forcing him back, driving their battle further from his crew. Zoro hadn't cared; his fight was with their captain, the only one that mattered; the rest of them were too weak to be bothered with. Even if the cook had momentarily surprised him with his mettle.

Now that same cook was up on a rooftop, a black silhouette against the night-gray clouds, waving his arms and hollering like a madman—whatever insanity drove the Strawhat captain was contagious, apparently. No matter; Zoro had no time for him. He turned back to Strawhat in time to stab at him with three blades in a deadly triangle. The pirate bounced up to avoid the swords, and Zoro changed the arc of his blow to thrust upwards—

" _Oi,_ I'm talking to you, the bastard with the three butter-knives! Or has all this rain made the algae on your head grow over your ears?"

If Strawhat Luffy heard his crewmember's babble, he gave no sign, all his focus on Zoro as he nimbly avoided the stabbing blades, springing up atop the closest rooftop. And all of Zoro's was on Strawhat, leaping up after him, no attention to spare for the crazy pirate cook blathering on behind them.

"Nami-san never should've lent you any money to buy those stupid shish-kabob skewers, if this is what you were going to do with them!"

There was no reason to pay attention to the cook; it was obvious he was trying to spoil Zoro's focus, take the heat off his captain. Too weak to put his body on the line again, so he threw words instead of kicks, no better than a gutless schoolkid mouthing off at a teacher.

Certainly his insults were at that level. "—we should've left you here; you'd never find your way through the streets, since there's more than one of them! No, wait, I forgot, _you_ can't even figure out which way to go down a one-way street—"

No reason to pay him any heed; the best thing for Zoro to do was simply ignore the idiot.

...So why the hell couldn't he? He could close out the chill of the rain and the howl of the wind, was undeterred by the darkness and not slowed by the aching of his bruised body. But for some reason the cook's obnoxious voice pierced the wall of his concentration, the meaningless petty jabber pricking like the bites of a hungry mosquito. Not poisonous or dangerous, but so totally, continuously annoying that ignoring the bug and not slapping at it was almost more distracting than just squashing the bastard.

Even as he weaved between the next flurry of rubber punches to swing his swords at Strawhat's neck, Zoro could hear the cook shouting hoarsely, "—swear I'll make you pay for what you did to Nami-san and Robin-chan! Brainwashing's no excuse for being a brute—not that you've ever been better than a big green gorilla—no, that's not fair, at least you can train a gorilla—"

On and on, pointless and pathetic and even though the blond man was too far away for Zoro to see his face, he somehow could still picture it clearly anyway—the stupid spirally eyebrow, the hearts in his eyes as the cook sang out, "Don't worry, Nami-san, I'll protect you from this shitty excuse for a pirate hunter, who's so inadequate he needs _three_ swords! Robin-chan, where are you? I hope you show up soon, so you can see how heroic I look when I kick his ass—"

The next punch Strawhat threw, Zoro intercepted instead of dodged. Sheathing Yubashiri, he grabbed the rubber man by the wrist and swung him around like he was doing the hammer throw, the pirate's arm stretching further with every revolution as he squalled in confusion. At the next apex Zoro flung Strawhat away, through a pair of windows and into a retaining wall with a resounding series of crashes.

Then Zoro spun around toward the pirate dancing like a fool up on the rooftop, and hollered, " _Would you SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU STUPID COOK?!_ "

"...Zoro?" he heard Monkey D. Luffy mumble from where he'd fallen, bizarrely confused and far too familiar for a pirate to address a pirate hunter—but Zoro ignored him, charging across the rooftops, swords raised to cut the damn annoying pirate down.

"Whoops," the cook said, "that's done it," and he stepped back, at the edge of the thatched roof—though he didn't retreat any further, and Zoro might've given him credit for that courage. If he'd been inclined to offer any recognition to the irritating blond son of a bitch. Which he wasn't.

Instead Zoro took a running leap and launched himself off the neighboring house to land on the thatched roof, three yards from the Strawhat cook, two swords drawn, and one step away from cutting the bastard down.

That step didn't go as planned, however, because as soon as Zoro set his boot down, his feet skidded out from under him as if the roof's rain-soaked thatch were slick ice. There was a shiny black coating on the straw—not tar but oil, and by the glimpse he caught of the cook's smirk as he fell, it wasn't merely a coincidence.

Zoro was already braced by the time he hit the cobblestone, knees bent to absorb the impact, swords in hand and ready for whatever trap he'd sprung. It was dark in the cramped alley between the houses, the overhanging roofs nearly blocking the sky. He'd dislodged some of the thatch as he'd fallen, hay stalks rustling as they settled—but one particular rustle was different, right behind him. Zoro turned toward the motion, glimpsing a flash of orange hair through the gloom—

Behind him, an obscured figure cried out, "Balloon special, triple oil bath!"

Zoro spun back around, slashing out with his swords to slice through three fist-sized shapes flying at him through the darkness. The balloons' thin rubber parted under the blades to drench him from head to toe with more slippery oil, its thick chemical odor stronger than the mold. It stung in his eyes and was incredibly foul-tasting to boot. Zoro wrinkled his nose and spat, squinting into the shadows—

"Flame star!"

Blinking through the oil, Zoro glimpsed a flicker of yellow hurtling toward him like a miniature meteorite. Only a tiny flame, hardly more than a candle's worth—until it hit the oil.

If it hit. Zoro grinned fiercely and swept his cursed blade and his white katana down simultaneously. The crossed slash of air-currents cut through the air as cleanly as any blade, extinguishing the flaming coal, so it only fizzled with dull failure when it smacked into his bicep and dropped harmlessly to the ground.

Zoro heard the sharpshooter squeak in dismay, his cowering figure materializing in the far end of the alley as Zoro's eyes readjusted from looking into the flame. At the other end of the alley he heard the echo of running footsteps, the tap of heels on the cobblestone street—steps too light for the cook; it must be the orange-haired navigator, wisely fleeing for her life.

No matter; Zoro had the cook to deal with, and now the whimpering sharpshooter—for the second time tonight; could none of these damn pirates stay down? He turned back to the long-nosed bastard, placing Wadou back between his teeth as he reached for Yubashiri in its scabbard at his hip—

The scabbard that wasn't there. Neither was the katana, when Zoro looked—the hook on his haramaki was still there, slicked in oil, but no sword hung from it.

He looked up to see the sharpshooter staring at him, terror warring with defiance in his wide eyes. "M-missing something?" the pirate stammered, and Zoro had just the time to glimpse the long, thin, familiar outline of a katana tucked under his arm.

Then the sharpshooter flung down a pellet that burst on the ground, filling the alley with choking, blinding gray smoke, even as Zoro lunged at him.

Simultaneously an enraged roar sounded from the street behind them. "What are you doing?!" and Monkey D. Luffy's voice was almost trembling with fury. "This is our fight; don't interfere! _Give Zoro back his sword!!_ "


	20. Chapter 20

For a moment Usopp was sure he was dead—for what, the third time tonight? The fourth? By now it should've ceased being so mouth-drying terrifying to see Zoro turn on him with his eyes flashing like a demon's under the black bandana. A human being can get used to just about anything, with enough exposure.

But he wasn't quite acclimated yet, and when Zoro swung around toward him a cold sweat swept over Usopp, his throat closing up so that he could barely squeak. The alley they'd picked was too narrow; Nami had deemed it better to limit Zoro's range of movement, but stuck in here now with an enraged brainwashed swordsman, Usopp wished they'd gone for a boulevard instead.

It took Zoro a moment to realize his katana was gone—not surprising; Zoro wasn't all that quick on the uptake, and besides Usopp had _never_ seen Nami move that fast. Forget cat burglar, she should be called the cheetah thief. But the look in the swordsman's eyes when he saw what was under Usopp's arm couldn't have even been called murderous; that would've been putting it too nicely.

Usopp wasted no time deploying the smoke bomb he'd kept in reserve—the gas was harmless, and the rain would soon disperse it, but a few seconds' delay in getting stabbed was always worth it, in his opinion.

Only he didn't get even a few seconds; no sooner had the smoke started billowing up when a dark figure burst through it, slung Usopp over his shoulder, and jumped up to the roof above. Usopp made a courageous showing, flailing and kicking at his captor, until his knee rammed the guy in the chest, upon which he gasped and doubled over, choking out, "Stop that, idiot!"

Usopp froze. "Uh, Sanji?"

"Yeah, who else? Wasn't this the damn plan?" Sanji said, straightening up to take a running start and leap across to the next rooftop.

"Sorry," Usopp mumbled, "I kind of forgot."

"It was _your plan!_ "

"Anyway, you can put me down now, I can—" Lifting his head enough to keep his chin from bashing into Sanji's shoulder, Usopp happened to see what—who—was coming up the roof behind them, bounding agilely from gable to chimney, two swords drawn—"Eek! Never mind, go faster, must go faster!"

"Going—fast—as I can!" Sanji gasped out, as they skidded down the next row of roofing tiles.

"Hold on, I've got another smoke bomb—" Usopp said, trying to reach into his bag—no easy feat when he was being jounced like a sack of potatoes. It would sputter out fast in the open rain, but the camouflage could give them a chance to hide—

"No!" Sanji grated. "Better him—following us—than Nami-san!" Which had also been the plan—but Sanji was supposed to have gotten Usopp to safety before Zoro came after him.

Draped as he was over Sanji's shoulder—a position Usopp was becoming all too familiar with, though the cook was a lot bonier and less secure than Chopper's solid, furred muscle—he could feel how hard Sanji's lungs were working. Usually Sanji would have no trouble outrunning Zoro; but injured, and burdened with Usopp's not-quite-deadweight, he was that much slower.

And Zoro was that much more pissed off—and wouldn't be in any better a mood when he caught them and realized that the stick under Usopp's arm wasn't his sword after all, but two lengths of Nami's Clima-Tact, wrapped in a poncho to approximate the shape of a katana.

The real katana, of course, was still in Nami's clever thief hands. With luck it had gotten Luffy's attention long enough that he would listen to what she had to tell him. Usopp didn't hear their captain shouting anymore, at least, which was a good sign. Of all of them Nami was the least likely for Luffy to attack, and the most likely to have her explanation heeded, but it had still been a risk.

Not to mention the way Sanji was panting now, he'd be lucky to keep standing for much longer, much less sprinting down gables and leaping between gutters.

Usopp gulped, and made the bravest sacrifice of his life—in the last twenty-four hours, anyhow—yelling into the cook's ear over the rain, "Sanji, put me down, you'll be faster—"

Sanji shook his head hard, knocking the brim of the straw hat hung around his neck into Usopp's face. "Like hell!"

"You can take the Clima-Tact. If Zoro thinks you've got the sword—he might not take the time to, um—you know—to me—"

"What if he does?"

There was now one rooftop's distance between them and the swordsman, when Usopp looked; any closer and it wouldn't make a difference anyway—"What do you think, that I'm a girl? Captain Usopp can take care of himself! Put me down now!"

"Shut up!"

Usopp made a valiant effort to throw himself off Sanji's shoulder, but the cook hung onto his legs, and all Usopp succeed in doing was slowing them enough for Zoro to catch up. The swordsman lunged for them with both his remaining swords. Usopp shrieked, and Sanji dodged—only to lose his footing on the rain-wet roof-tiles. He scrambled to regain it, but the last tile cracked under the sole of his shoe and they both tumbled off the edge of the roof.

They were three stories up, high enough for Usopp to get a good clear terrifying look at the muddy street he was about to crash headfirst into—well, at least it probably wouldn't hurt any more than getting sliced to pieces by one's own nakama—

Only they landed on something quite a bit less solid than cobblestone, a familiarly flexible surface that sank under them and then rebounded, bouncing them back into the air.

Past the red of a stretched vest, Usopp caught a flash of orange hair as they flew up, as a female voice called to them over the rain, "Usopp! Sanji-kun! Over here!"

Sanji, still grabbing onto Usopp, twirled in midair with a physics-defying pirouette any ballerina would envy and caroled, "Coming, Nami-san!"

From midair, Usopp watched the giant rubber balloon which had broken their fall deflate back down into their captain, stretching his arms up toward the rooftop. They crossed paths as Sanji angled their fall towards Nami, waving at them from the street below; and Luffy slingshot himself up to the roof, yelling, "ZORO! Cut it out already!"

He landed on the roof next to Zoro as Sanji and Usopp splashed down before Nami. Other than stepping out of their way, she didn't acknowledge them, her eyes fixed on the rooftop above them as she clutched Zoro's sheathed katana in both hands.

Bruised and breathless, sitting in an inch-deep puddle but too sore to crawl out of it, Usopp tipped back his head to follow her gaze to Luffy. To Luffy standing before Zoro, the pirate hunter with his two remaining swords drawn and ready, and their pirate captain with his hands at his sides and head cocked curiously, unthreatening. His voice carried clearly over the rain. "I get it—I know what's wrong with you, Zoro."

"Nothing's wrong with me," Zoro growled, and Usopp shivered—of course he shivered; he was hurting and wet and cold; but Zoro's voice was far colder than the rain, the anger in it. Zoro blew up at Luffy all the time, but not like this, nothing like this chill contempt. It was scary enough when it was directed at their enemies, and it had been absolutely terrifying when directed at Usopp himself—but it was that much worse to hear Zoro speaking to Luffy like that. Zoro who had been the first of all of them to follow Luffy, who was always the first to obey their captain, no matter how crazy the command.

"No, there is," Luffy said, and he sounded as unshakably confident as always. As if facing Zoro like this was no worse than Zoro yelling at him for insulting his sense of direction. "Nami told me what happened. That's why she stole your sword—I wouldn't have let her get away with that otherwise. But I get it now."

"Get _what?_ " Zoro snarled, stabbing forward with both blades. Luffy bent his rubber body sideways, swaying out over the street away from the swords, then twisted his torso back around to deal an elbow jab that knocked Zoro halfway up the roof, shattering tiles under him.

"Get that you don't really want to do this," Luffy said, quite calmly, as if he hadn't just hammered the swordsman. "You're only fighting 'cause he's making you."

Zoro picked himself up off the roof. He was still holding both of his swords—he wouldn't be letting them go anytime sooner, Usopp thought, not after losing the one. "No one's making me do anything."

Luffy balanced on his toes on the edge of the gutter, stretched his arms like he was warming up. "It was pretty dumb of you to get caught like that," he remarked.

"No one caught me!" Zoro denied.

"Then why're you doing this?"

"You're a pirate. I'm a pirate hunter. Do I need any other reason?"

"Yeah," Luffy said. "You do. So cut this out. You can't beat me anyway; you're not strong enough."

Under his dripping black bandana, Zoro's eyes narrowed to slits. He brought up his paired katana, cursed red and sacred white, raised them parallel to the slanted rooftop. "Don't think I'm useless just because your damned thief got one of my blades."

Luffy shook his head. "I'm not. You weren't strong enough with three, either, not when you don't know most of Zoro's moves."

"I _am_ Zoro! I know all my own moves!"

"Not the new ones," Luffy said. "You forgot them, too, along with everything else—that's why you're so weak, fighting me now."

Zoro didn't dignify that insult with any articulate response; he just roared and charged Luffy. Rather than countering the attack, Luffy shot his arms backwards to grab onto the chimney of the next house and snap himself over to it, forcing Zoro to change direction mid-charge.

" _Weak?_ " Nami hissed disbelievingly.

"He's bluffing," Usopp whispered back. "Maybe he's trying to get Zoro mad, so he won't fight as well—"

"No," Sanji said. He was staring up at their crewmates as well, chewing tenaciously on another unlit cigarette. "It wouldn't work; Zoro fights harder, the more pissed off he is—but Luffy's not lying anyway. He's right—that shit swordsman, I didn't realize it when he was fighting me before, but he wasn't using any of his new techniques. Nothing he's come up with since we came to the Grand Line, or before. His body's a hell of a lot stronger now, and his swords are better; but the way he fights, it's like he used to when I first joined the crew. And that's no match for Luffy."

"R-really?" Usopp stammered. "But—but that's great, then! Luffy can stop him, and then we can take him back to the ship and Chopper can find a way to heal whatever that snake venom did to his head—"

But Sanji was shaking his head. "Not that easy."

"Why?"

Zoro caught up to Luffy, who stood his ground this time, unleashing a flurry of gatling-fast punches to repel Zoro's swords, both moving too quickly for Usopp to really follow the action or tell who was coming out ahead.

"Zoro then, Zoro now," Sanji said grimly, "that son of a bitch swordsman never gives up. Luffy can bring him down; but the only way to keep him down is to make sure he can't get up again. Ever."

"But Luffy wouldn't," Nami said, shaking her head in a sharp, almost convulsive motion. Her knuckles were white around her grip on the katana's scabbard "He wouldn't. Not to Zoro. Especially not when he knows it's not Zoro's fault..."

"Right, Nami-san," Sanji said, and he sounded tired, wearied as he never should when talking to a lady. He wasn't even looking at Nami, eye still fixed on the silhouetted figures of the swordsman and their captain battling above them. "That's why Luffy's not fighting back."

One of Luffy's fists got through Zoro's wall of swords then, catching Zoro in the face and sending him flying through two brick chimneys and a weathervane before he caught himself, skidding to a stop at the roof's edge.

"You call _that_ not fighting back?" Nami said.

"Well, compared to how Luffy is when he's really worked up..." Usopp said, because Luffy didn't follow up on the punch; instead of throwing himself after Zoro, he stayed on the crest of the roof, swinging his arms idly as he watched Zoro climb back to his feet.

"Told you," their captain said. "You shouldn't have let me get that hit in; you oughta know how to block it."

"You've never attacked me with that before," Zoro said, advancing on him once more.

"Nope," Luffy agreed, "but you've seen it lots. Like you've seen this one— _Gomu Gomu no—_ " and he stretched his arm behind him, twisting it as he did, so that his next punch drilled in like a jackhammer, "— _Rifle!_ "

Zoro's raised blocking arm could have taken a normal pistol shot, but not that spinning blow; Usopp couldn't help but wince as the swordsman was flipped over and backwards, curling in just in time to hit the roof with his shoulders instead of his skull. The tiles shattered under him with a jarring crack.

"See?" Luffy said, all the more insulting in how inoffensively straightforward he said it. "You're not strong enough to fight me now. You should just stop, put down your swords, and we can figure out how to fix you."

" _Luffy_ ," Usopp moaned, because maybe he didn't know Zoro's fighting style well enough to recognize missing attacks, but he could tell when Luffy was being an idiot, and their captain couldn't do a better job of pissing off Zoro if he were trying.

"That moron," Sanji groaned, "what kind of game does he think this is? Like hell the shithead swordsman's ever going to put down those swords..."

"But Luffy knows that," Nami said—not incredulously or annoyed, but oddly calm. When Usopp glanced up at her, she was still looking up into the rain, the water plastering her orange hair across her furrowed forehead.

"Nami-san?" Sanji asked.

"I told him what was wrong with Zoro," Nami said quietly. "And Luffy understood. And he knows Zoro, better than anyone. If he thinks this is the right way... Usopp, where's my Clima-Tact?"

"Here," Usopp said, unwrapping the poncho from around the lengths of rod and handing them over. Nami nodded thanks, snapping the pieces of her staff together.

"Nami-san?" Sanji repeated, scrambling to get up with her.

Nami stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, that light touch enough that Sanji sank back to the ground as if his legs has melted. "No, Sanji-kun," she said, and pushed Zoro's black katana at him. "You and Usopp stay here and guard this. I just want to get a better view of them—I'll stay back where it's safe, don't worry."

Not giving either of them a chance to protest, she cast an evaluating glance at the single-story cottage across the street, then took off running, using her staff to pole-vault up on top of the cottage's low roof.

"Be careful, Nami-san!" Sanji called, hoarsely as he tried to be loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough not to alert Zoro to her presence. Nami waved once, then ducked and disappeared behind the angled rooftop.

It wasn't likely that Zoro would notice her anyway; Luffy was keeping him busy, throwing punches and the occasional whip-around kick, but mostly just dancing and bouncing out of the way of Zoro's swords. Almost like he was playing a game, except that Luffy wasn't grinning—against the rain and cloudy sky his pale face almost glowed, illuminated by the moonshine through the clouds, eyes dark and his mouth a flat line, as fixed and focused as Usopp had ever seen him.

No, Luffy wasn't playing any games; he understood too well what was going on, as he always did when the stakes were high enough. Lesser matters Luffy didn't bother considering, but the important things he never missed. And his nakama were always important.

But Zoro was just as serious, fighting him now—and as far as Zoro was concerned, they weren't nakama, and had never been. Luffy might not want to hurt Zoro, but Zoro had no such compunctions, as he slashed and stabbed and sliced at Luffy. And Luffy's rubber body didn't absorb cuts like it did beatings; he hadn't taken any serious injuries, but he was bleeding freely from scratches up and down his arms and legs, blood mixing with the rain. Eventually even he would start to feel that—and if he slowed too much, before he stopped Zoro...

"We shouldn't have told him," Usopp murmured. At Sanji's confused grunt, he clarified, "Luffy—we shouldn't have told him about Zoro. He was fighting him fine before, but now, now that he knows—" Somehow he'd thought it would make all the difference to tell Luffy—had thought that Luffy, once he knew what was wrong, would fix it, grab hold of a miracle and tear it out of fate's teeth, like he always did. But it was Luffy who was getting torn up now, cut by cut...

"Wouldn't have been any better for him to learn the truth afterwards," Sanji said. "If he—if Luffy beat Zoro, and then found out that it wasn't Zoro's choice to take him on anyway..."

"But if he can't beat Zoro now," Usopp said, "if he can't bring himself to, and Zoro beats him instead..." And the worst part was that it wouldn't be the slightest bit better or easier, when Zoro came back to himself—if he came back to himself—and realized what he'd done...

The figures fighting on the rooftops blurred. Usopp ducked his head and rubbed his eyes to clear them. Sanji's hand fell on his shoulder, gripped firmly. Usopp shook his head, tried to shrug him off. "It's—just got rain in my eyes."

"Yeah," Sanji said, chewing harder on his cigarette, not looking at Usopp.

"It wouldn't—it wouldn't be manly to cry now."

"Yeah," Sanji said again, and didn't move his hand. "...I wouldn't tell anybody, though."

"Zoro!" Luffy shouted above them. He stood between two gables on the several-story townhouse, sandals planted on the shingles on either side of the triangular peaks, facing Zoro with his fists on his hips. "We can stop now—I don't wanna do this unless I have to."

"You have to," Zoro growled, and lunged for him, bringing both swords down in a mighty, lethal cross.

Luffy hopped backwards to avoid the attack, right off the roof. On purpose—he grabbed onto the gables, one hand on each peak, and let his arms stretch, slowing his descent to almost a stop by the time he reached the street. Gripping the cobblestone with his toes, he bent back the last few inches he could stretch, rubber flesh creaking—then let go, snapping back like a giant rubber band and launching himself back up to the roof.

Zoro braced for him, stance set with his knees bent and his swords crossed before him, ready to take the full force of the blow. But Luffy wasn't rocketing toward him—instead he twisted to change his angle as he flew. Stretching out his arm, he looped it behind the swords to grab Zoro's own forearm as he flew past, wrenching Zoro's arm upwards with all his weight and momentum.

On the street below, they were too far away to hear the sickening crack of the joint popping free, but no body of solid bones rather than rubber could have endured that angle. Not even Zoro's—Sandai Kitetsu fell from his dislocated grasp, the cursed katana clattering on the wooden shingles as it slid down off the roof to crash onto the cobblestone below.

Sanji swore and propped himself to his feet with the black katana, staggered across the street with his arm wrapped tightly over his cracked ribs, to collect the second sword before Zoro could leap down and retrieve it. Not that Luffy was going to let him; he lunged to block Zoro's way, arms outspread.

And Zoro was down to one sword, with only one arm to hold the white katana, the other hanging limp and useless at his side.

"Will you stop now?" Luffy asked him.

"Not until you stop me," Zoro growled back, slashing his katana in a murderous arc, opening yet another bleeding cut across Luffy's arm.

Luffy stepped back, up to the roof's peak, but didn't flinch. "Okay, then," he said, as matter-of-factly as ever, as Zoro closed in. The bloodthirsty pirate hunter against his most hated prey, but Luffy could see him coming; Luffy was ready for him, and stronger—

"What're you doing?" Sanji hollered, and Usopp jumped, at the suddenness of the cry, and its desperation. Sanji was staring up at the rooftop, face pale and his eye wide under the wet blond bangs. _Nami_ , Usopp thought; she must have revealed herself to Zoro, to make the cook panic like that—but he couldn't see any sign of the navigator.

Only Luffy, dodging nimbly to the side as Zoro's sword stabbed forward with the force of an engine piston.

"You idiot—" Sanji shouted, throwing the two katana aside on the cobblestone as he sprinted toward the townhouse, "he's not—Luffy, _move_ —!"

At the last second, with more strength he should be able to manage with one arm, Zoro redirected the sword—changed the angle of the stab and thrust the katana home, before Luffy could block or bend his rubber body out of the way. The blade entered cleanly, as smooth as an oar parting water, almost so clean a stroke that Usopp could believe it had missed the flesh entirely, not when Luffy didn't even make a sound—

Then he saw the point of the blade emerging from Luffy's back, the katana's steel slick with blood darker than the rain. The pirate hunter's blade, run through the pirate who would be king—their captain and their nakama and Usopp was screaming along with Sanji, _"LUFFY!"_


	21. Chapter 21

Robin very much wished she could make an eye ahead of her, or a warning hand—but with the sea-stone net entangled around her arms and shoulders, weighing down both her spirit and her power, it was quite impossible. It was all she could do to keep her head raised, stumbling forward without falling as the Marines shoved her along

But when they turned onto the street where Morgan's hideout was located, she deliberately slowed her pace, let her head droop as if the exhausting pressure of the stone were getting to her. Chopper, galloping ahead, might have made it here before them, and escaped with Usopp; but she had no way to be sure. If her brave young long-nosed crewmate were still resting here, she had to warn him somehow of their approach. So Robin dragged her heels, slower and slower, until they were only a couple houses away.

Then she let herself sink to her knees—the rest was more necessary than she cared to admit—and shook her head when the Marine behind her prodded her in the back with his rifle. "No," she mumbled, "I can't..."

Her little performance got the commodore's attention; he marched over, cracked her across the back of the cheek with his gloved hand. "Get up," he ordered, "don't think you can delay your fate! Pick her up, if she won't stand!"

Robin, considering, deemed his irritated bellow loud enough to carry inside the nearby houses. "All right," she said, keeping her head down to hide the anger she could not keep from her eyes—it would only antagonize the man further, and she'd had enough of his hand, when she could do little about it. "I'll get up." Though she made sure to take it slow, laboriously climbing back to her feet without tripping over the net.

It might have been a successful gambit, or else the doctor and the sniper were already gone; either way Morgan's hideout was empty when they reached it, to Robin's great relief. The commodore did look suspiciously at the broken door. Morgan, of course, had no comment to make; having obediently lead them here as ordered, he stood outside the house, dazed and quiescent as the rain rattled down on his rusting jaw and the axe blade at the end of his arm. He had been moving more slowly as well, Robin had noticed; the mesmerang venom in his blood was affecting even his heavy mass. Though it would be a couple days yet before he needed the antidote—not that Robin especially cared one way or another. The man was a former Marine, and their enemy besides; even if she'd had any mercy left in her heart, she wouldn't have wasted it on the likes of him.

The commodore ordered several of his men to investigate the dark house before he entered himself, stepping gingerly over the threshold with his nose wrinkled in distaste. Robin could not see clearly inside; she squinted into the shadows past the door, wishing she might open another eye on the wall, or an ear to listen; she felt nearly blind, to have her senses limited to only the organs on her own body.

She was still straining to make out anything when the commodore emerged, and she could read his success in his spiteful smirk, even before she saw the mesmerang. The tiny serpent was coiled around the commodore's wrist like an exotic bronze bracelet, while he grasped its small head firmly between his fingers, carefully avoiding the venomous fangs.

Robin looked into the snake's bright blue eyes, wondering if it could recognize her as Chopper's friend. Not that it would make much difference; it was as trapped by the commodore as she, as helpless. For this poor used creature, she had sympathy; she wished she could tell it that she bore it no ill will. Perhaps she could ask the doctor to give it her apologies, later. This was her gambit, after all, her risk to take; had she had a choice, it would not have been involved at all.

But then, it was far from the first innocent she had used to get her way.

The commodore was smiling at her, a true Marine smile, vile in his triumph. "Now, Nico Robin," he said, "let's see if we can't convince you to be a little more cooperative," and he fisted his free hand in her hair to wrench her head back and bare her neck, while he brought up his other hand, holding the serpent.

Even rolling down her eyes until they ached, Robin couldn't quite see the officer's other hand, but she could feel his bony knuckles brush her throat, and the merest tickle against her skin, lighter than the raindrops, of the snake's flicking tongue.

And then a sharp prick as it bit, its needle-sharp fangs plunging into her neck.

 

* * *

 

 _"LUFFY!"_

Nami heard Usopp and Sanji scream down on the streets below, heard the fear and horror in her crewmates' voices and knew exactly what they were thinking. _Not yet_ , she tried to urge them mentally, not daring to should aloud—but they couldn't charge to their captain's aid, not now. She could only hope their injuries would keep them put.

Not that she could blame them—it was all she could do not to shout herself, when she saw Zoro's sword stab into Luffy's chest, all she could do to stay hidden in the concealing shadows of the chimney one rooftop over.

Though she had an advantage; from up here she could see what Usopp and Sanji couldn't, down on the street below and at the wrong angle to make out Luffy's face, to see the certainty there, the resolve. She couldn't read attacks, not like Sanji could—but she could read Luffy. He hadn't been caught off-guard by Zoro's attack, not at all; he'd seen it coming, had known what the feint would be from the moment Zoro had charged him.

And at that last second he hadn't moved, hadn't tried to dodge Zoro's sword again, just clenched his jaw against the pain with his wide dark eyes fixed on Zoro, seeing the pirate hunter surely and absolutely and as fearlessly as ever.

He didn't move until Zoro tried to pull away, tried to withdraw his sword, open the wound further and finish the fight—except that Luffy didn't let him. Instead Luffy grabbed Zoro, pushing the katana's blade that much deeper into his guts as he wrapped his elastic legs around Zoro's and snaked his arms around Zoro's shoulders. Not an embrace but entangling the swordsman like a rubber snare, knotting them together, tying them in place on the roof's apex.

Luffy moved so fast, springing his trap, that even Zoro took a second to realize it, an instant of confusion before he started to struggle, trying to break free of those rubber bonds. By then Luffy was already looking past him, over Zoro's shoulder, his gaze unerringly finding Nami. As if he'd known she was there all along—maybe he'd heard her climbing up, or maybe he'd spotted her dashing behind the chimney; or maybe he'd just known because he was Luffy, and she was his nakama.

However he knew, Luffy looked to her, met her eyes across the gap between the rooftops, and while he wasn't smiling, he didn't look in pain, either—more relieved, confident, as if knowing this was almost over.

The wind picked up, dashing rain in her eyes and obscuring her view, but she heard her captain shout, " _Now, Nami!_ "

Not that she needed to be told. Nami had already raised her Clima-Tact, up towards the dark storm clouds that had been hanging over them for this whole damn night. At her captain's command, she released a thunder ball—a single static charge, to polarize all the massive ionization gathered in the clouds, electrons stripped away by each and every falling raindrop.

And right below was the path of least resistance to the ground, a charged point of metal high on the rooftops, closest to the clouds—the white sword piercing Luffy, and Zoro's hands were still wrapped around its hilt; his last katana, his first and best sword, and he would never let it go while there was still breath in him.

A shadow had been cast over Zoro's memories, Usopp had told them, and she had told Luffy. A shadow, so they needed a light bright enough to pierce that darkness—a great enough shock to shake down the wall blocking their nakama from them.

The lightning bolt cleaved the sky, like the stroke of an axe dividing night from day, reaching from the clouds above to the sword's steel point. It flashed more blindingly brilliant than the sun for a single timeless instant of absolute stillness; then the earth-shattering boom of the thunderclap sounded, like the next tick of the universe's clock, setting the world in motion again.

Nami felt the frisson of static charge wash over her like a crackling blanket, her hair standing on end and her teeth aching to their roots. She fought to catch her breath, furiously blinking back afterimages, the bright blackness outlining a merged silhouette—Luffy and Zoro, bound together in the dead center of the lightning bolt.

The roof tiles around them were charred black, embers sizzling as raindrops fell on them and instantly evaporated into steam. In its midst, Luffy stood untouched, his rubber self impervious to the electricity's burn, with his arms looped around Zoro and the swordman's blade still stabbed through him, blood darkening his red shirt where the point emerged. Against him slumped Zoro, scorched and unmoving, his hand slipping from his katana's hilt to fall lifelessly to his side.

Before Nami could drag herself to her feet and cross over to them, Luffy's legs gave way, and pirate captain and pirate hunter both slid down, off and over the edge of the roof, tumbling down together to the cobblestone street below.


	22. Chapter 22

Over the rain and the pounding of his hooves on the cobblestone, Chopper couldn't be sure if he really heard Luffy shouting, " _Gomu gomu no—_ " or whether it was just his imagination, hearing what he wanted to hear. Still, he headed toward the shout, imaginary though it might be.

Upon escaping from the Marines, Chopper's first idea had been to return to Usopp, who would surely know what to do, know how to save Robin—but no; Usopp was hurt and should stay safe and warm inside, out of the rain. Besides, if any Marines were following him, Chopper couldn't risk leading them to his injured crewmate.

So he'd gone the other way instead, taking a circuitous route designed to lose any trackers. Unfortunately it had been too effective and lost Chopper as well; through the rain he couldn't smell his way around, leaving him wandering the streets, until he heard in the distance Luffy's shouted attack, and the familiar crash of breaking things.

At first Chopper galloped excitedly down the street toward the noise—only to slow to a trot, and then a hesitant walk. He was trembling as if he were cold, for all that the rain was nowhere near as freezing as snow and his coat was thick enough that he barely felt the drops hitting him. But he was close enough now to hear Luffy's voice for sure, carrying over the rain—to hear the impact of his devastating punches, and the clash of steel, sword blades against wood.

 _Hurry!_ Chopper urged himself. Robin needed their crewmates, and his crewmates would need him; he'd heard enough fights to know when a doctor should be called upon. Especially since neither Luffy nor Zoro cared about the limits of their bodies; they'd fight far past them, and the sooner they received care the better, once their fight was over...

So Chopper told himself; and yet his legs would not move faster. It was an effort of will to pick up each hoof and set it down again, when every reindeer instinct he possessed was telling him to turn and run away, as fast and as far as he could.

Until he heard another shout—not their captain but other voices, so loud as to be almost unrecognizable, but their fear was not. " _LUFFY!"_

Then Chopper was running before he could think, bolting like a racer at the bang of the starter pistol, spurred by the panic in his crewmates' voices. Galloping towards them, not away, as no normal reindeer would; but the instincts urging him now were stronger than any prey animal's.

He was rounding the corner when the lightning struck, the bolt searing a white line across his vision, blinding through the night as it stabbed down from the clouds. At first he assumed it was the storm, unluckily worsening. He didn't understand until, still deafened by the thunder, he looked up to the rooftops and saw, silhouetted against the clouds, a slender figure with a staff in hand. Nami with her Clima-Tact, and Nami would never be caught unawares by any storm; but for her to call down the lightning—

Two more figures were on the next rooftop before her—two figures falling. Chopper bounded forward before it consciously registered what he'd seen, transforming to his human form in time to catch them both. The collision knocked him to the ground, knocking the breath out of him—but he had no time to catch it, not when Luffy had a sword stabbed through him, and Zoro—

Zoro wasn't moving, flopping limply to the ground as Chopper sat up and Luffy rolled off both of them, onto his hands and knees with the hilt of the katana run through his gut bumping on the cobblestone. The sword was too low to have hit his heart, Chopper quickly diagnosed with a glance; Luffy was conscious and mobile, rising to a crouch with his eyes open, fixed on Zoro.

And Zoro's hands were burned and his face was slack and he wasn't breathing; and when Chopper touched his throat, he felt no pulse.

Behind them, footsteps stampeded and people shouted Chopper's name, and Luffy's and Zoro's—Nami's voice, and Sanji's, and why did that sound like Usopp's?—but Chopper couldn't take the time to look to his other nakama. Couldn't take the time to cry or yell for a doctor, not when the lightning's electricity had stopped Zoro's heart—it shouldn't have, not when Ener's blasts hadn't, and Nami probably had been counting on that. But the battles in Skypiea hadn't been so long ago, and the cardiac fibers wouldn't have completely recovered from that prior trauma—along with the cumulative effects of the poisoning he'd suffered in the recent days—

All of this went through a part of Chopper's brain that was as far removed from himself as his reindeer instincts. The greatest part, all the doctor's conscious focus, was on Zoro, fixed on his nakama's motionless body as he set his hands to the swordman's chest and pumped, then filled his own lungs deep and breathed, forcing air through Zoro's lips, which were already turning blue—

Beside him as he worked Chopper heard his nakama, Usopp gulping, " _Zoro,_ " and Nami gasping, "I didn't—no, oh, no, please, I didn't think—" and Sanji yelling, "Come on, you shitty swordsman, if you make Nami-san cry, I'll—I'll—come on, you _can't_ —"

And Luffy, sitting up, with Zoro's sword stuck through him, said nothing, but Chopper could feel the captain's watching eyes, a silent stare louder than any of the others' voices.

Then Luffy reached out, laid his bloody hand on the swordsman's shoulder and said quietly, "Okay, Zoro?"

And Zoro choked and gasped and inhaled, coughing on the oxygen his lungs fought to suck in. His eyes stayed closed and he continued to lay limp and stunned, but his heart thumped a living beat under Chopper's hands.

Usopp and Sanji cheered; Nami dropped to her knees on the cobblestone, her face buried in her hands. Luffy nodded once in sure affirmation, then climbed to his feet, a bit unsteadily, and wrapped his hands around the hilt of the katana still thrust through him.

"Wait—!" Chopper tried to stop him, too late. Grabbing onto the sword, Luffy yanked it out of his chest with a disturbing sucking sound and a splatter of blood. "No!" Chopper shrieked, reverting to his usual small form in his panic and waving his short arms wildly, "you'll bleed out—I don't have any bandages—!"

"Don't worry, it's not too bad," Luffy told him. "I'm okay, I just need some meat."

"No you're not!" Chopper denied with all the certainty his medical education afforded him. Not to mention his eyes. "You were _stabbed!_ " Though it was true that Luffy was failing to gush blood everywhere, and was still upright, though his voice and expression were both tight with strain. "Even if you're stretching your muscles to seal the wound closed, you can't keep doing that for long," Chopper protested. "You need to be bandaged, and stitched, and—"

Ignoring him, Luffy looked to his other crewmates, asked, "Where are Zoro's other swords?"

"Over there," Sanji said, pointing down the street, and he started to stride over—slower than he usually moved, to Chopper's discerning medical eye, and the way he was hunched over betrayed his injuries.

"Sanji," Chopper said, "you shouldn't be moving around with cracked ribs! And Usopp, you have to take it easy, too—get under the eaves there, out of the rain."

"I'll get the swords, Sanji-kun," Nami said, "you sit down," and Sanji joyfully obliged, as Nami jogged down the street to collect the katana—she at least looked uninjured, to Chopper's great relief. They were well-stocked on medical supplies on the Merry, but after tonight he'd need to pick up more.

He turned back to his two worst patients. Luffy was still standing, still not bleeding, holding the white katana in one hand, and the tension on his face wasn't pain but something else, as he gazed down at Zoro at his feet.

Zoro lay quiescent on his back, comatose and oblivious to the rain streaming down his face. He was still wearing the black bandana, Chopper noticed uneasily; it shadowed the swordsman's closed eyes, made even his unconscious expression look fierce.

"Should we...tie him up or something?" Usopp asked awkwardly. "Before he wakes up and tries to...you know..."

Luffy didn't answer, continuing to watch Zoro's still face, as if he hadn't heard.

"Probably should," Sanji said. "But before that—where's Robin-chan? Wasn't she with you, Chopper?"

"Oh no!" Chopper frantically jumped up, expanding into his man-form. "I forgot—the Marines! Now the fight's over—and Robin—we have to help Robin—!"

"The Marines?" Usopp said, blanching. "Didn't you guys—"

"Help Robin-chan?" Sanji asked, shoving himself to his feet.

"What happened to Robin?" Luffy demanded.

Before Chopper could answer, Nami screamed, "Get your hands off me!"

 _No_ , Chopper moaned to himself; he'd remembered too late. The Marines were already here, the squad of enlisted men backed by Morgan's looming bulk, and the commodore in his soaked finery. The soggy feather in his hat hung over his curly hair and dripped onto the lenses of his pince-nez as he stared down his nose at Nami, held by two of his burly troops. In the officer's hands were Zoro's two swords, Yubashiri in its sheath and the Kitetsu's naked blade shining in the rain.

"Don't touch those!" Nami shouted, struggling against the Marines holding her arms. "Let me go!"

"Nami-san!"

"Nami!"

"Wait—!" Chopper cried, moving to stop them, too late; Luffy charged the Marines, still holding Zoro's white katana, and Sanji was right behind him.

"You know what to do!" The commodore gestured to his troops, who stepped forward to meet the Strawhats' charge. Two of men, Chopper realized, held something stretched between their hands, glittering faintly silver through the rain—a net, like the one the commodore had caught Robin in.

"Watch out!" Chopper tried to warn, leaping after his crewmates, but the net was already thrown. It tangled around Luffy's body, tripped him and sent him crashing to the cobblestone, where he lay gasping, flattened under the spare silk and sea-stone web, not even having the strength to tear it off.

"Luffy?" Sanji skidded around him, gaping at his prone captain in confusion.

"It's sea-stone!" Chopper yelled. "We have to get it off him—"

He lunged for Luffy, only to have his way blocked by a Marine almost as tall as him, with another net—more sea-stone, Chopper realized the moment it landed over him and he reverted from Heavy Point's burly strength to his regular small form.

"Ah, so you are a Devil Fruit user," Chopper heard the commodore remark. "It's fortunate we planned for two." The tall Marine scooped up the net and tossed it over his shoulder, and Chopper with it, hanging upside-down on his back like a sack. How many of these nets could they have? Chopper wondered through the dizzy weakness of the sea-energy; sea-stone wasn't cheap, and they ought to still have Robin wrapped in one...

"Chopper!" Sanji went for the tall Marine, but the man swung the net and Chopper in it at him like a bludgeon. While usually the cook would have easily dodged the blow, with his injuries now he was too slow. One of Chopper's antlers caught him in the chest, dropping him as hard as Luffy, with a gasp of pain.

"Sanji!" Chopper whimpered, head ringing from the impact and horrified; he'd felt the crack of bone as he hit. "I'm sorry!"

"Sanji-kun!" Nami cried, struggling wildly against the Marines holding her arms, trying to wrench herself free.

Sanji, panting hard, wiped away the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth and flipped back to his feet. Even as Chopper protested from his helpless position in the net, the cook whirled to kick the Marine, but before his foot hit home, a voice called out, " _Seis Fleurs!_ "

Slender arms reached out from Sanji's back, hooking around his legs and arms and pushing him back to the ground, holding him fast.

"What?" Chopper said, and heard Nami in front of him and Usopp behind him cry the same.

The Marine commodore looked at them through his rain-fogged lenses, smirking. "You were asking earlier about Nico Robin? She's right here," and he stepped aside, gesturing for a tall figure in back of the Marine troops to come forward and stand beside him. Robin's head was down, black bangs shading her eyes, and her arms were crossed over her chest as she held Sanji in place.

"Robin?" Nami gasped. "What are you—why—"

"Don't listen to her, Nico Robin," the commodore commanded. "And don't bother appealing to her, girl; she won't hear you. Your crewmate recently had an encounter with a little snake, and now she's as Captain Morgan here—with no will to call her own. Only mine."

"N-no," Chopper heard Usopp behind them gasp. "Oh, no..."

Under the sea-stone net, Luffy hauled up his head to look up at their crewmate. "R-Robin," he panted, "don't listen to this jerk—"

His voice was low with anger, but thready and weak, and when he coughed it was a dangerous liquid hacking. "Luffy," Chopper whimpered, smelling the blood through the rain. With his rubber abilities suppressed by the sea-stone, Luffy couldn't keep holding his wound together; if he wasn't bandaged up soon he could bleed out.

And Robin didn't look at him, didn't move, bound under the curse of the mesmerang's venom.

"Ah—uh—guys," Usopp said, fear strangling his voice to a croak.

Chopper twisted around as well as he could in the net to look at him—and saw, in front of Usopp, Zoro sitting up. As Chopper watched, the swordsman climbed to his feet—singed, and moving more slowly than usually he would, when the crew was in trouble like this, when Luffy was in trouble—but why would a pirate hunter care what happened to pirates? The red staining the puddles under Luffy wouldn't mean anything to this man but the defeat of his enemy.

"Roronoa Zoro," the Marine commodore said, blinking once in surprise, before resuming his smirk. "Good of you to join us."

Zoro impassively gazed at the officer, and the two katana in the commodore's hands. Then he looked over the rest of them—looked at Luffy, and for a moment hope surged in Chopper's heart, seeing the intensity with which Zoro studied their captain. If there were anything left of the Zoro they knew, the Zoro who knew them...

Zoro strode forward, steady on his feet for a man who'd just survived a lightning strike, to stop before Luffy, staring down at him just as Luffy had stood over him minutes before.

Upside down as he was, Chopper couldn't read Zoro's expression. Not happiness or triumph, at least; maybe just the frustration of not having dealt the final blow.

Then the swordsman drew back his foot and kicked Luffy in the shoulder, hard enough to roll him over onto his back. Luffy choked back a cry of pain, curling around his bleeding body, still tangled in the sea-stone net.

"Roronoa!" the commodore snapped. "What are you doing?"

"Zoro!" Chopper couldn't help but wail desperately, as Zoro reached down and grabbed the white katana that Luffy had been clutching to his chest, prying it from his one-time captain's fingers.

"Ah, I see," the commodore said, subsiding, as Zoro straightened up again. "Carry on, then. Though I'd appreciate it if you spared Strawhat Luffy's life; the full reward, you know—"

Sword in hand, Zoro turned his head enough for one eye to gleam at the commodore through the rain.

The Marine officer gulped audibly, falling a step back. "—or you could do as you please."

"Yeah," Zoro said, low and deadly, "I will," and he raised the katana over Luffy.


	23. Chapter 23

Zoro was only barely sure of what was going on. Scarce minutes ago he had been up on the rooftop— _"Luffy!"_ the Strawhat pirates below screamed their captain's name, as Zoro's sword drove forward to end their battle.

And Monkey D. Luffy himself just stood there, watching Zoro come at him, utterly unafraid. The moment before Zoro struck, it almost looked like the pirate smiled, the smile of a man who had so lived the life he wanted that there was no space in him for regret—

An impossible smile, and for the fractional instant between that smile and the stab of his katana, Zoro recalled...not an image, nothing so definite as a memory. But a feeling, _déjà vu_ , that he had been here before—the smell of thunderclouds in the air, and the shout of a familiar voice—only Zoro had been shouting, too, his own throat hoarse with desperation, blood pounding in his ears and swords drawn as he threw himself forward, as fast as ever he had moved in his life. And still not fast enough, because above him the sword's blade was falling, as the man who would be pirate king smiled his impossible smile, and apologized for dying—

Then Zoro's sword plunged into the Strawhat captain's chest—and the trap was sprung, the trap he should have seen coming, rubber limbs winding around him like an octopus's tentacles, trapping him even as he fought. The air was thick with the ozone hum of ionization—one spark, twinkling like a star, and then the lightning struck.

Electricity burned through Zoro's veins, outlining the path of his nerves in dazzling agony, as powerful as one of Enel's strikes—

 _—Who was Enel?—_

—As bright as the thunderbolt that had struck the scaffold in Loguetown, the miracle that had spared Monkey D. Luffy's life, saved his captain from the execution Zoro had not been fast enough to stop—

 _—His captain?—_

But Zoro was faster now, stronger, as he had to be. Stronger than anyone, to become the swordsman who stood above all others in the world.

—To become the swordsman worthy of following the pirate king—

—Under his captain—

— _But he was the pirate hunter Zoro_ , beholden to no one, neither pirate nor Marine; he answered to no one but himself. He could not put anyone's dream above his own, could not entrust that dream to any other; he had never met anyone with the strength or will to bear it—

—Never met anyone, until—

Zoro realized he was falling, distantly aware of the dropping sensation in the pit of his stomach; but he couldn't move, not even to open his eyes and see how far the ground was below him. Couldn't feel the hilt of his katana in his numb hands—he'd lost it, lost his last sword and lost the battle, and now he was falling into an endless bottomless abyss...

Was this it? But no, it couldn't be; he couldn't die here, not with his promise unfulfilled—

He was falling and rubber arms were wrapped around him, and a voice spoke in his ear, calm and confident as the devil himself, telling him, _"Be my nakama, and I'll give you back your swords."_

—Repeating the promise of before, all that time ago, on another island in a faraway sea, the first time Zoro had been Axe-hand Morgan's prisoner. The first time, when a crazy pirate boy had invaded the Marine base and saved him—saved his life and his dream and his future, and how had he ever forgotten that? How could he have forgotten that promise, and everything he'd gained with it, when he had accepted his swords from Luffy, a lifetime ago?

 _"Okay, Zoro?"_

The next thing Zoro knew, he was lying in a puddle on cold stone, and all his concentration was dedicated to breathing—in and out, inhalation and exhalation, counterpoint to his heartbeat steadying in his ears. Rain dripped on his face, and voices washed over him—his crewmates, and the panic in their shouts dragged Zoro back to awareness, fighting his consciousness free from the aftermath of the electricity's agony.

Strange, though; it somehow felt like he'd been hearing his nakama shout like that for a while, but try as he might he couldn't remember what enemy they had been fighting. He and Luffy had been up on a rooftop together, but where had their opponent been? Zoro couldn't even recall what weapon or power the guy had had, much less a name or a face.

But wait, he could hear another voice now, not anyone from the Merry—a supercilious bleating, vaguely familiar in how it turned his stomach.

The Marine commodore, with his stupid hat and glasses and sneer—the commodore, exchanging smug assurances with Morgan in a dark room, with the rain beating on the windows—Morgan, and Zoro standing beside him. Listening as Morgan commanded.

 _"Who are you hunting?"_

As if that fragmentary recollection was the final overflowing drop, the dam broke, a torrent of memories flooding his mind. The past few days, the past night, crashed over Zoro like an avalanche, crushing him, smothering him—

 _—You, it was you, it was you they were fighting; and you were fighting them, you were trying to—how could you—_

—But his nakama were still in trouble. Had to deal with the Marines before he dealt with anything else, so Zoro pushed back that pain, suppressing it the same as he ignored the throbbing of his lightning-fried nerves and his burned hands, and got to his feet.

The Marines were watching him, warily, but not attacking. Too many for him to take barehanded, not fast enough, not with his crewmates in danger. All Zoro needed was a sword, one blade to even the odds.

The katana Luffy had promised to return to him, Wadou Ichimonji, was now in Luffy's hands. Zoro strode over to his captain, forcing his steps to be steady.

Luffy looked up at him, bleeding and panting for breath, but meeting Zoro's eyes with his expected, eternal fearlessness. Not that the Marine would have known; he was at the wrong angle to see Luffy's defiance.

Zoro didn't need to nod or say a word, didn't need to make any sign for his captain to understand. Luffy simply looked at him, then rolled over in time with Zoro's kick and let go of the sword.

Zoro took his white katana, raised it up. Behind and before him he heard his other nakama crying out in fear and dismay, and yeah, it would've hurt less to be stabbed with poisoned knives, but either way he didn't have time to bleed.

Instead he brought down the sword and neatly sliced through the net entangling Luffy. Behind him the Marine commodore squawked in alarm, as Zoro whirled to cut through the net trapping Chopper as well, so the little reindeer dropped out of the sack to the cobblestone. Zoro didn't bother pulling the blow, so the blade cut into the Marine holding Chopper's net as well, and the man went down with a cry of pain.

By then the other Marines had caught on; spurred by their commodore's frantic commands, they rushed him en masse. They weren't the real threat, however, and Zoro dispatched of most of them with a single-sword _onigiri_ , followed by a _tatsumaki_ to bring down the few left standing, as he charged for the most dangerous factor.

He wasn't sure if he'd make it—wasn't sure what he'd do once he did, but he had to figure out some way to stop Robin; under the commodore's mind control, she would be almost dangerous as he had been. The commodore was yelling at her and Morgan both, spittle flying as he screamed, " _Take Roronoa down!_ " Zoro ignored him and kept moving—if he could knock Robin out, they could get one of the sea-stone nets around her, and then straighten her out later—

Only Robin didn't move to attack him, or even sidestep; instead she raised her head to look at him steadily, raised her hands—only two hands, not a dangerous multiplication—in a conciliatory gesture and said, "Please don't concern yourself with me, Swordsman-san; I'm not actually under his command."

Zoro stopped his sword's swing with sheer strength, the hilt a foot away from ramming her head—then almost believed he had miscalculated when Robin's calm expression suddenly darkened and she brought in her arms, closing her fingers into fists.

But no alien hands grabbed him; instead he heard a thud behind him, spun around to see Morgan, brought to his knees with his axe-handed arm twisted behind his back by two arms sprouted from his torso. The big man didn't try to struggle, passively accepting the restraint, eyes foggy and his iron jaw slack.

Before Zoro could figure out what was wrong with him, the commodore yelled, "All you pirates, stop at once! Or else your crewmate—!"

The officer had raised Zoro's red katana to Nami's neck, sleek edge pressing into her skin as the rain ran down the forged steel, tinged red with a trickle of blood. Sandai Kitetsu's cursed blade was yet ever thirsty.

Zoro froze, saw Robin do the same, as did Luffy on his other side, having just managed to stand up from the sea-stone net.

"You son of a bitch!" Nami, still held by the two remaining Marine troops, spat in the officer's eye defiantly. She might have hit; with the rain it was hard to tell. "I'll—"

"I would shut up," the commodore snapped. "There's no bounty on you, so no reason to spare you. Nor should any of you move," and he gestured to the rest of them with the sheathed black katana in his free hand. "If you don't want me to take this woman's attractive but ultimately worthless head, then put down your sword, Roronoa Zoro, and put the net back over Monkey D—"

Which was as far as he got before a black-shoed foot slammed into his arm with the unmistakable crunch of a snapped bone. The sword dropped harmlessly from the officer's suddenly limp fingers.

"Get your hands off Nami-san, you shitty Marine bastards!" Sanji hollered. He took out the two Marines holding her with a spinning double kick, and finished with a follow-up blow to the commodore's chin that sent him flying like a rag doll, coming down on top of the pile of troops Zoro had already felled. "How dare you call Nami-san's attractive head worthless, you—ow," the cook broke off with a wince, hunching over with his hand pressed to his side.

"Sanji-kun!" Nami crouched next to her erstwhile rescuer, helping prop him up, though for once Sanji didn't swoon at the attention. Instead he raised his head, staring at Zoro through his wet blond bangs, and staggered forward to put himself between the swordsman and Nami. He stepped on Kitetsu's blade as he did, deliberately trapping the sword under his heel.

"So what's it going to be, bastard?" Sanji panted, glaring at him. "Round three?"

Usually the challenge in the cook's voice would have raised Zoro's ire—except that it was nothing like how Sanji usually said it, not mocking insult but fierce determination, for all his shoulders under his soaked black suit were shaking with exhaustion.

Zoro had no idea how to answer. Wadou Ichimonji was still in his hand; he lowered the sword, sheathed it and with effort uncurled his fingers from around the white hilt. With the adrenaline of the fight ebbing, his hands were starting to sting, the burned palms throbbing.

But that pain was nowhere near as excruciating as the defiance in Sanji's eyes, in the wideness of Nami's as she stared at him, standing up straight but staying cautiously behind Sanji's shoulder. Distrust in those stares, and worse.

Zoro could recognize fear, having seen it in so many other faces looking at him before. But to see it in his nakama's eyes was a wholly different thing.

"I..." Zoro started to say, and stopped.

Footsteps sounded through the rain to either side of him, but every tread was familiar, nothing he needed to raise his sword against. Usopp's limping steps stumbled, and Chopper trotted over to assist him; Robin took only a single step, relaxing her stance.

And the slap of sandals through the puddles—Zoro didn't look over, keeping his head and gaze both forward as their captain passed him.

Luffy walked over to Sanji and Nami, asked quietly, "Where's my hat?"

"Here," Sanji said, handing over the battered treasure.

"Thanks." Luffy took the straw hat, set it back on his head with a nod, then looked between his crewmates once more and said, "Sanji, Nami. Gimme the swords."

"Luffy, are you..." Nami began, only to trail off.

Sanji didn't say anything, but lifted his foot from the Kitetsu's blade. Nami crouched, picked up the cursed katana and Yubashiri still in its sheath and handed them both to Luffy.

Luffy turned back around, and Zoro couldn't help but glance at his face under the straw hat's brim. Luffy wasn't smiling; Zoro couldn't read his expression otherwise. But he had the courage at least to meet his captain's wide dark eyes and not look away, as Luffy marched back over to him.

Luffy's red vest was stained dark with blood, stickier than the rain, and the wound showed brighter red underneath, where cloth and flesh had been stabbed through. But his hands were steady, bearing the weight of the two katana, and his voice was steady, too, as he asked, "Zoro, are you my nakama?"

 _Of course_ , Zoro wanted to say, _always, for as long as you sail_ —but he'd foregone the right to that promise, after this night.

Instead he just said, "Yes."

"Okay," Luffy said, "then here," and he held out the swords to Zoro.

Zoro hesitated a moment, then took them, sliding Kitetsu safely back in its red scabbard, hooking Yubashiri's scabbard onto his haramaki with the other two.

It didn't surprise him, getting his swords back—they were his, part of his life, and until that ended he knew he would never lose his blades.

What surprised him was Luffy's grin as he took them, wild and pleased and just as impossibly, hugely, widely bright as it had been all that time ago, in a Marine base in East Blue, the first time he had won a swordsman to his crew.

 

* * *

 

Usopp wasn't sure what was going to happen when Zoro reclaimed his swords—was ready for anything, fingers clenched so hard around his slingshot's handle that they were cramping. If this was just a ruse, if Zoro was only pretending, and once he was re-armed he would cut Luffy down—

But Zoro didn't; instead he just sheathed his swords, and then stood there, hands at his sides and the rain beating down on his black bandana. With his jaw set and his eyes in shadow, he looked as dangerous a threat as he'd been for all the hellishly long night.

Except that Luffy before him was smiling, satisfied and absolutely sure. And from that Usopp knew that this was Zoro, the real Zoro, _their_ Zoro, back on their side, their nakama again.

Usopp would have cried (for the first time tonight; it had only been rain before, no matter what Sanji might claim afterwards)—except that he couldn't, not yet. Not when Zoro was only standing there, saying nothing, and his crewmates were all staring at him, just as mute, and there had to be something Usopp could say to break that barrier of silence, a stick of conversational dynamite that would shatter the wall building between all of them—

He cleared his throat, but before he could say anything Robin beat him to it, stepping forward to say, "Captain-san, if I may—"

"Oh, no, Robin!" Chopper wailed, suddenly expanding to his full-sized man form and grabbing the net at his feet, wincing at the touch of the sea-stone. "D-don't hurt them, or I'll have to stop you—!"

"It's all right, Doctor-san," Robin said reassuringly. "You can put down that net; I'm not going to attack you."

"But—he said you were bitten," Usopp said, raising his slingshot and trying to stop his arms from trembling. "If you're hypnotized now—"

"I'm not," Robin said. "Look," and she leaned towards the doctor.

Chopper peered into her eyes, then pronounced with fervent relief, "They're clear!" He dropped the net, shrinking back down to his usual form. "Thank goodness!"

"I knew you'd never turn on us, Robin-chan!" Sanji sang out, waving with the arm not pressed to his ribs.

A strange doubting look crossed Robin's features, but so quickly Usopp might have only imagined it; then she smiled her calm smile and said, "I apologize for grabbing you before, Cook-san. I wasn't yet in a good position to betray my free will to the Marines, and besides Doctor-san seemed quite concerned about how you were straining yourself."

"It was no trouble at all," Sanji assured her. "The touch of Robin-chan's gentle hands could never trouble me!"

"But how'd you fool them, Robin?" Nami asked. "If the commodore had the snake—wouldn't he have noticed if it didn't really bite you?"

Robin brushed back the black hair falling on her neck, touching her fingers to the little mark there. "The mesmerang did bite me," she said. "I wasn't poisoned, however."

"It didn't have any venom left," Chopper realized. "Poisonous snakes have to make the venom in their fangs; it's a limited resource. After biting Morgan, and Zoro all the times before that..." He glanced up at Zoro, gulped and hastily, guiltily looked away.

If Zoro noticed, he gave no sign, continuing to stare silently ahead. He almost might have been poisoned again himself.

"Apparently so," Robin said, smoothing over the awkward pause. "As I'd assumed might be the case, given the behavior of other venomous animals. At any rate, I was unaffected, but I thought it prudent to play along, when the Marines still had their nets to recapture me." Her smile vanished, expression hardening as she looked back at the pile of groaning or insensate Marines. The commodore was sprawled on top of the heap like a broken harlequin doll, and Axe-hand Morgan slumped beside them, technically conscious but as inert. "I regret not being able to stop them myself, and spare all of you the trouble."

"They weren't any trouble either, Robin-chan!"

"Though they will be," Nami said, "once the rest of the commodore's crew come looking for him. Especially if they summon more ships for backup, or capture the Merry—we better get out of here fast, back to the docks and set sail tonight."

"Oh, no, Merry!" Chopper cried.

"Maybe they won't bother with us now, when they've got that guy," Sanji remarked, quirking his cigarette in Morgan's direction. "He's wanted, too, right?"

Luffy walked over towards the pile of Marines, wet sandals slapping on the street, and stopped before Morgan. "So these are the guys who did the stuff to Zoro, huh?"

He said it quietly, calmly, with no particular edge, and yet Usopp shivered anyway, as if the rain pattering on him had turned to sleet.

Zoro could've answered that better than any of them, but he didn't say anything, though he was watching Luffy, head down but eyes raised. So Usopp answered instead, "Y-yeah," tightening his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. "That guy Morgan there, he was the one who did it, who got the snake and all. And the commodore's the one he made the deal with, to get back in the Marines, for our heads. Well, your head and Robin's, at least..."

Luffy cocked his head, looking up at Morgan. "I remember you," he said. "You'd caught Zoro before, too, the first time I got him to join."

Morgan of course didn't reply, glazed eyes staring mindlessly forward.

"He's still poisoned, Luffy," Chopper said. "Like he did to Zoro—he won't do anything now, not unless he's ordered to."

"That's it!" Nami snapped her fingers, smiling unexpectedly. "This is the perfect opportunity—we can order him to forget all about you and Zoro. Erase you from his memories, so he won't even know you exist to get revenge on."

"That is perfect!" Usopp said, brightening in spite of himself as he followed her wicked insight. "We leave him with the Marines, give them something to keep them busy—and then even if he escapes from them again, he'll never come after any of us."

Luffy cocked his head in the other direction, still looking up at Morgan. "Hmm," he said. "That'd work? He'd listen to me?"

"He'll listen to anything you tell him," Chopper said.

"Huh." Luffy reached up with one hand, grabbed Morgan by the metal chin and yanked his head down to his eye-level. The ex-Marine bent forward compliantly. "Oi," Luffy said, "can you hear me? Are you listening to what I say?"

Morgan's voice was slurred and creaky, as if his vocal chords were rusting in the rain along with his jaw. "Yeah."

"Then listen good, and remember this," Luffy said. "I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to become the pirate king. And that guy over there, that's Roronoa Zoro, and he's going to become the best swordsman in the world. And everyone else, they're our nakama, mine and Zoro's.

"So you can keep capturing him, and you can keep trying to get revenge on us, as often as you want—but no matter how many times you try, we're always going to beat you, and we're always, always going to get Zoro back. Got it?"

"Got it," Morgan rasped, tonelessly obedient.

"Good," Luffy said. Then he snapped back his fist, twisting his arm as he did, and threw a spinning punch that caught Morgan square in the metal jaw, denting the iron and sending him crashing into the pile of Marines. The man's enormous body landed square on top of the commodore, effectively flattening the officer and the half a dozen men under him; it was only thanks to luck that Morgan's axe-bladed hand didn't decapitate any of them.

"Okay," Luffy said, turning to his crew without another look back at the groaning Marines. "Let's get to the Merry, everybody. It's time to leave this island."


	24. Epilogue

One of the ironies of medicine, the great unfair things about being a doctor, was the frustrating imbalance of cause to effect. Viruses and bacteria, the least of all living things, could wreak the most terrible diseases. A bullet or a blade could in seconds inflict wounds that took weeks or months to heal. As a ship's doctor—as this ship's doctor—Chopper was all too familiar with those truths.

Then there were those wounds so bad that they never could heal, not completely, no matter how great the skills of the doctor who treated them.

They were returning to the Merry, running through Monsun's cobblestone streets for hopefully the last time, and Chopper was noticing how the sky was lighter behind the clouds—dawn was approaching, the night finally ending—when he heard an _ulp_ and a splashing thud behind him.

"Luffy!"

They all skidded to a stop around their captain. Luffy's injury had overtaken him all at once; he blinked up at them confusedly from where he was sprawled in a puddle, mumbling, "Eh? Why can't I walk?"

"Because you're bleeding too much!" Chopper wailed. " _Doctor!_ —oh wait, that's me," and he pushed up Luffy's shirt to examine the stab wound. It wasn't as bad as he'd feared, with Luffy's rubber muscles still holding his sides together. Chopper tied a bandage tightly around him to prevent further blood-loss, then changed to his human form and lifted Luffy up in his arms. "I can treat it better back on the Merry; let's go!"

Jogging through the rain, carrying an injured nakama, was a familiar feeling by now—though it was jarring to have Zoro keeping pace beside them. Even though that was where Zoro was supposed to be, it still gave Chopper an unpleasant start, every time he caught a glimpse of the swordsman. Even though Zoro had taken off his black bandana and tied it around his arm, and his swords were sheathed at his side—even though he was still Zoro, their crewmate, their nakama—Chopper couldn't help but shiver.

Maybe Zoro noticed, or else he got confused finding his way, like Zoro did sometimes, because he started falling back, trailing increasingly further behind them. They had all slowed down; with half the crew injured, they couldn't manage to keep up a run all the way to the harbor, even with Nami leading them on the shortest route. Sanji was less successful at hiding his limp with each step, and Usopp especially was starting to flag, though he made a good effort of not complaining, right up until he stumbled and nearly fell on his nose, saved only thanks to Robin's quick reflexes.

"Longnose-kun!"

"Usopp!"

"I'm okay," Usopp mumbled, waving off Chopper, who was alarmed by the way the sniper was panting and shivering in the rain as he sagged in Robin's quartet of supporting hands. With his human nose Chopper couldn't smell if Usopp was bleeding through the bandages, but the chill was definitely bad for him, and he should really be off his feet.

"I can piggy-back you," Sanji said.

"No, you can't," Chopper vetoed. "Not with that ankle, and your ribs aren't even bandaged!"

"I'll walk and Chopper can carry you," Luffy said, squirming to be let down.

Chopper held on to his captain determinedly. "No, you won't!"

"Robin and I can carry him together," Nami suggested, and Robin nodded.

Usopp shook his head. "No."

"How dare you refuse Nami-san and Robin-chan's generosity—" Sanji began to rant, then abruptly stopped as Usopp lifted a shaky hand.

" _You_ can carry me," he said, pointing at Zoro, halted in the street some distance behind them.

Zoro wiped rain from his eyes, frowning. "Me?"

"Yeah," Usopp said, "since this is your fault!"

"I..." Zoro said.

Luffy's laugh was weaker but sincere as always. "He's right, Zoro! You owe him."

"But—that's..." Zoro fell silent, shook his head once and without another word marched over to Usopp, staring down at him. Staring at the bandages showing under his overalls. Almost as if he didn't understand why they were there, though he should know better than anyone.

Usopp for his part met that stare with his own defiant boldness, that special trembling wide-eyed Usopp boldness that looked like terror on Chopper or most other people. It was just that he showed courage differently, he'd explained to Chopper a while ago. Though Chopper wouldn't have blamed Usopp for being actually afraid—Chopper himself wouldn't want Zoro frowning at him like that, and ducked his head to avoid the chance.

But Usopp of course was braver than that, even daring to yelp, "Hey, be careful, I'm hurt here!" when Zoro picked him up and put him on his back.

Zoro usually would have yelled back, but he didn't say anything now, not even when Usopp smacked his shoulder and ordered, "Left, go left! Don't get lost! And hurry up, we have to make sure the Merry's okay!"

He sounded stronger, to Chopper's relief, and they could go faster now, especially when Robin offered Sanji a hand that he was more than grateful to accept. And carrying Usopp, Zoro made an effort to keep pace with the rest of them, making it to the docks with only a brief detour or two.

The Marines hadn't found the Merry yet. Even with half the crew injured or otherwise occupied, they were ready to sail within the hour, just in time for Robin to return to the ship—"Where were you?" Chopper asked her when she climbed aboard; he'd been busy tending to Luffy and Usopp and Sanji, and hadn't realized she'd disembarked. "And come here, your arm's hurt."

Robin came into the infirmary corner by the galley to let him clean and bandage her cut arm, as she explained, "We had a debt to repay; it wouldn't do to leave an ally behind, I thought," and she unbuttoned her shirt to reveal the mesmerang. The little bronze snake was curled on her bosom, enjoying the warmth; it hissed a sleepy greeting to Chopper and uncoiled to slither into his furry arms.

"We'll let you off on the next summer island we get to," Chopper told it. "Meanwhile there's rats in the hold you can eat—Sanji will be glad for the help with them."

 _"No more biting men?"_ the snake asked hopefully.

"No," Chopper reassured, "you won't have to bite anything but what you eat ever again."

"Though perhaps you should advise it to keep a distance from the swordsman-san," Robin said. "He'd probably not appreciate the reminder."

As it turned out, there was little chance of Zoro seeing the mesmerang. In the days that followed the swordsman didn't bother going below decks, unless it was his turn to man the helm. He took the late watches, spending the night in the crow's nest rather than in his hammock in the men's quarters, even though it was quieter enough to be restful there, with Luffy and Usopp both confined to the main room per Chopper's orders.

During the days Zoro would exercise or take naps like always, but in out-of-the-way places like out on the yardarms or in the hold, instead his usual sprawling on deck underfoot. The crew saw little of him beyond quick glimpses when he helped rig the sails or raise the anchor. It was, Chopper overheard Nami and Usopp discussing, more like having a ghost on the ship than a swordsman.

For the first few days after they sailed from Monsun, Zoro also skipped meals with the crew. That ended on the fourth day. Chopper didn't see the start of it, but Sanji's shout was loud enough to be heard across the ship, "Get your thieving hands out of the icebox!"

That wasn't anything unusual to hear, except that Luffy was up on deck at the time, looking as surprised as the rest of them, as Sanji continued, "I mean it—drop that, you shitty swordsman!"

Which brought everyone to the galley as quickly as if dinner had been announced. Sanji was set in front of the icebox, looking like the incarnation of righteous culinary wrath in a black suit, while Zoro stood before him, saying, "Damn it, cook, it was just some leftovers—"

"If you want my cooking, you can turn up for meals like everyone else!" Sanji yelled, and spun around to throw a kick at Zoro—powerful but not too fast, and Zoro easily could block it, started to draw one of his swords to do so—

Then he looked past Sanji to the rest of the crew, gathered in the main cabin and staring—and Zoro stopped, let go of the katana's hilt and dropped his arm, so that Sanji's kick caught him square in the shoulder, nearly knocking him down.

"What the—?" Sanji said, posed with his leg still extended.

"Forget it," Zoro said, starting to turn away.

"Like hell!" Sanji snapped, twisting back around to deliver another kick to Zoro's other side.

This one Zoro stepped out of the way of, still not raising a sword or arm to block. "I said forget it, cook. I won't steal anything more out of the kitchen, okay? Promise."

"So what are you going to be eating, then?" Sanji demanded. "No way anyone starves on this ship—even shit-for-brains swordsmen."

"Then just give me some damn—" Zoro stopped, gritted his teeth and shook his head. He glanced again at the watching crew, then back to Sanji. "All right," he said, calmer and quieter than Zoro usually sounded when talking to the cook. "I'll wait until dinner, then," and he ducked past all of them, out the door and up to the crow's nest.

"Good," Sanji said, to none of them in particular, but he didn't look satisfied, burning through a cigarette in angrily rapid puffs as he glared at the door as if blaming it for some terrible crime. He only turned away to kick Luffy back from the icebox door. "You can wait for dinner, too!"

"But I'm hungry now!" Luffy pouted, while Chopper begged both of them to take it easy—Sanji's ribs were healing well, and Luffy was basically recovered, his rubber body having bounced back as ridiculously fast as always; but neither of them were as inclined to watch their condition as the doctor would prefer.

Chopper supposed he should be grateful that Zoro hadn't been too badly injured; the swordsman was never inclined to listen to medical advice at the best of times, and right now he maybe wasn't inclined to listen to any of them about anything.

But he showed up at dinner as promised, sitting at the end of the table, as far from any of them as he could manage while still being able to reach his plate. Which was still close enough for Luffy to reach it as well, if he stretched out his arm, and Zoro didn't try to stop him from stealing, letting Luffy help himself without so much as trying to stick him with a fork.

Everyone had gone quiet when Zoro had first sat down with them, but then Usopp launched into a dramatic recounting about how he'd bested the terrible Speckled Hyper-Squid of East Blue. The tale was so thrilling that Chopper almost forgot Zoro was there; he was so busy imagining the hundred writhing polka-dotted tentacles of the monster that he didn't notice Sanji's black-sleeved arm reaching across the table, over his plate, to Zoro's.

Not until Zoro growled, "What are you doing, cook?"—not loudly, but Usopp still broke off the story mid-sentence.

"Since you don't want your share, no point to wasting good food," Sanji said, his fingers on the roll on Zoro's plate—the last uneaten one on the table; Sanji's fluffy buttered biscuits always went fast. Zoro grabbed the cook's wrist, preventing him from taking it.

"Who says I don't want it?" Zoro demanded.

"Why'd you let Luffy have the others, if you do?"

Luffy chewed and swallowed, emptying his stuffed cheeks of the rest of the biscuits. "He's got a point, Zoro," he remarked.

Zoro let go of Sanji's wrist, fingers snapping open as he pushed to his feet. "Right," he said. "Have it."

Sanji dropped the biscuit back on Zoro's plate. "Ah, never mind, I'm not hungry for it after all."

"Cook," Zoro said, looking at Sanji.

"I'll have it!" Luffy cheerfully volunteered, reaching.

Sanji intercepted his hand, pulling it and snapping it back towards Luffy's shoulder like a rubber band. "No—Zoro-kun needs to eat something to keep his strength up." He also stood up from the table, smiling—or maybe more of a smirk, though Chopper couldn't tell why. Sanji always made sure everyone ate enough, and would stop Luffy from stealing from Nami or Robin's plates, so if Zoro wasn't defending his meal properly it only made sense that Sanji would step in.

But Zoro said, "I don't need your damn help, cook."

"Looks to me like you do," Sanji said, still smirking. "To me it looks like you're _scared_ of lifting your hand to stop our idiot captain from stealing your food—what's the matter, shit swordsman, afraid of getting your ass kicked again?"

"Sanji-kun," Nami said, soft but intent.

But Sanji kept staring at Zoro like he hadn't heard her, for all she was right next to him. "Must be embarrassing," he said, "losing to an opponent who wasn't even trying to kill you—no wonder you're shy about taking him on again."

"Shut up, you curly-eyebrowed bastard." Zoro was staring back at Sanji—glaring, his brow lowered, and though he wasn't wearing the black bandana, that dangerous look was still familiar enough that Chopper shuddered.

"But don't worry, _Zoro-kun_ , I'll protect your food for you," Sanji said. "After all, we can't have our swordsman getting so weak from hunger that he can't even hold onto his swords—"

"I said _shut up!_ " Zoro shouted, and threw a punch.

A punch which Sanji easily deflected with one leg, and he was grinning when he lowered it, not the smirk but a real smile. "Ah, look at that," he said brushing off the knee of his slacks. "Didn't even break anything."

"Sanji-kun!" Nami said again.

Sanji looked at her, his grin widening to as big as Luffy's rubber smile. "I told you, Nami-san, I can always piss him off."

Zoro was still staring at the cook, still but for his shoulders rising and falling, breathing as hard as if they'd had a full-out fight instead of a single blocked punch.

Sanji took out a cigarette, lit it with an expert flick of a match. "Eat your food, marimo," he said. "It'll get cold, and our fight won't. Or sparring, or practice, or whatever you want to call it—not like you're going to hurt me anyway."

After that Zoro ate most meals with them, and if he didn't have much to say while he did, that was no different from how he usually was. And he batted Luffy's hands away whenever their captain made a grab for his plate.

Chopper almost thought things were getting back to normal, believed it for a few days, until he happened to be arranging a blanket nest for the mesmerang in the hold by the porthole, and overheard Nami talking with Zoro on the deck above.

"Zoro, what do you mean, how much?" Nami was asking, and Chopper stopped to listen.

"My katana, Yubashiri—what's it worth?"

"I don't know, do I look like a swordseller?"

"The dealer I got it from said my other two would go for a million or more, and this one's not far off," Zoro said. "Would that be enough for you?"

"Enough for me?" Nami repeated. "How much beri could possibly be enough for me? Though a million's not too shabby. And I could get more for it if I said it was Pirate Hunter Zoro's katana...but what's the point? It's not like you're going to be selling any of your swords—"

"Would it pay off my debt?"

Nami paused. "What are you talking about?"

"Can't leave the ship with debts," Zoro said. "If I can get a decent price on Yubashiri, would that cover the money I owe you?"

"...No," Nami said, after another, longer, moment. "Not even close."

"Just how much interest are you charging?"

"Doesn't matter; that wouldn't cover any of it," Nami said. "Because I'm not taking it. What is this, Zoro? What do you mean, leaving the ship?"

"I've been thinking about getting off on the next island," Zoro said, calmly, like it was no big thing. "Becoming a bounty hunter again. Or a bodyguard or whatever; there's a lot of jobs needing swords on the Grand Line."

Nami murmured something too softly for Chopper to make out over the splash of waves against the hull, then said, louder, "Why would you do that? You're part of this crew—didn't you just tell Luffy you're his nakama?"

"Don't have to be on the Merry to be his nakama," Zoro said. "Vivi's not."

"Vivi left for the sake of her kingdom, not to run away from us! If it's debts you're worried about—the best way to pay me back, to pay us back, is to keep protecting us, right? That's how you can make up for the damage your swords did—by using them to make sure nothing like that happens to any of us again. Not by selling them, and not by leaving—"

"It wasn't my swords," Zoro said, calm but flat—as impassive as when he'd faced them that rainy night on Monsun, and Chopper below decks shivered to hear him. "It was me. The blood stained the blades, but I was the one shedding it."

"That wasn't your fault—"

"I wasn't hypnotized anymore," Zoro cut her off. "I wasn't a puppet; I had full control over my body. And I wasn't seeing things. I remember it all perfectly—I knew exactly what I was doing, everything I did, and I chose to do it."

"But it wasn't what you wanted to do—you wouldn't have attacked us if you'd remembered who we were," Nami insisted. "Maybe you weren't being directly controlled, but you were manipulated, tricked into it. And it didn't work anyway; Morgan's plot failed."

"Usopp, Robin, the cook, _Luffy_ —you call that failure?"

"You could have killed us," Nami said, bold and certain—she could be as brave as Luffy or Captain Usopp sometimes. Maybe braver. Chopper could only dream of having her courage. "Usopp, Chopper, me; Robin and Sanji-kun, too—you're so much stronger than any of us, and you had us cornered that night, taken by surprise; you could have killed any of us. And Luffy left himself open; you could've stabbed him through the heart—but you didn't. That was you, Zoro. Even after Morgan's mind games, you were still our nakama. You _are_ still our nakama.

"None of us blame you, Zoro. We're not angry with you—unless you try leaving this ship, unless you try to cut and run. Then there's going to be hell to pay. But otherwise we're just happy to have you back."

"Maybe you don't blame me," Zoro said. "Doesn't matter, if you're scared of me anyway."

"We're not scared of you," Nami said firmly, unhesitating.

Zoro didn't hesitate, either. "Chopper won't be in the same room with me alone—hell, he won't even look at me."

Chopper had to press his hooves over his mouth to keep from squeaking, the mesmerang hissing at him in concern. He hadn't known Zoro had noticed; he'd thought he'd been concealing it well. He'd managed to stop himself from hiding behind masts and doors when he saw Zoro coming, instead found perfectly reasonable reasons for why he had to go elsewhere whenever Zoro came below decks, checking up on Usopp or Luffy or going on watch or other important things to do—

"Well, Chopper..." Nami sighed. "However smart he is, he's still a reindeer, you know. Even if he trusts you, you're a hunter, and he's a prey animal. He's got all his instincts to overcome."

"He was never scared of me before," Zoro said.

"When Chopper first met you, he'd already been dealing with Luffy and Sanji-kun trying to eat him, so by comparison... You've just got to give him time, Zoro. He'll get over it."

But how much time, Chopper wondered all the next day, observing Zoro out of the corner of his eyes, from a cautious distance—watching the way Zoro watched him, around the table at mealtimes, or up on deck when working the sails. It shouldn't feel so very odd, knowing Zoro was keeping an eye on him; usually it made him feel safer, knowing his crewmate was there. Now it made his fur bristle like he was in Guard Point, to feel the swordsman's attention on him. Though whenever he dared turn to Zoro directly, Zoro would look away instead.

At dinner that night, Chopper made sure to sit next to Zoro, and concentrated on keeping his fur flattened to his body, made himself smile and talk with everybody like always. Everybody but Zoro, who didn't say anything—but then he often didn't. After dinner, before Zoro could escape up the crow's nest to take the evening watch, Chopper steeled himself, faced the swordsman and told him, "I need to check your heart, to make sure it's doing okay, after the lightning."

Zoro hesitated only a moment before bowing his head and following Chopper into a private corner of the meeting room , kneeling statue-still as Chopper put the stethoscope to his chest and listened. He didn't even breathe, not until Chopper lowered his stethoscope.

"It sounds all right—" Chopper started to say, but Zoro stood abruptly and his swords clinked in their scabbards as he moved, steel blades ringing against the wood, and Chopper flinched before he could help himself, dropping the stethoscope.

By the time he had picked it up, Zoro had left, hand set over the sword hilts to muffle their sounds, leaving Chopper standing alone in the cabin.

He was still standing there some minutes later when Robin entered. At his face she knelt to look him more levelly in the eyes. "Doctor-san, is something the matter?"

"N-no," Chopper tried to deny; but doctor-patient confidentiality failed and he blurted out, "It's Zoro—he won't—his heart—he can't get better, and it's my fault—"

"Your fault?" Robin's frown creased her smooth brow. "Swordsman-san's heart is damaged after all? He's seemed well enough, when I see him working out—"

Chopped shook his head. "Physically he's better—as better as he ever gets; he's got so many old injuries and he won't stop exercising long enough to let them totally recover—but that's not it, it's not his body. He's leaving, Robin, he wants to leave the ship, and it's my fault, because I—I keep—" He had no reason for it; he hadn't even been hurt. Not like Luffy, who stole food from Zoro's plate and laughed at him same as always. Or Usopp, whose chest was still bandaged, but he yelled at Zoro for snoring too loud on deck when Usopp was trying to work. Chopper was the only one who flinched when he heard Zoro's swords, who couldn't look him in the eye.

He covered his own eyes now with his hooves, ashamed. "Luffy's going to hate me for making Zoro leave, and I can't stand it either, the crew's not the crew without Zoro—but I can't—he's going to go away, because I can't—and he won't talk to me, so I can't even apologize to him, for being so—"

Robin tipped her head to the side, thoughtfully. "And what of the swordsman-san? Has he apologized to you, Doctor-san?"

Chopped put down his hooves, blinking in confusion. "No, but he doesn't have to—it wasn't his fault, what he did—"

"Whoever's fault it was, he still frightened you. But you would forgive him, if he did apologize?"

"Yes, of course, but—"

"Then that's why he won't speak to you," Robin said. "Because there's nothing he can think to say to you that isn't an apology."

"So why doesn't he just apologize, then?" Chopper said, trying not to wail it. He rubbed his face, hoping Robin wouldn't notice the damp fur under his eyes. "Even if he doesn't have to—at least if he would talk to me—"

Robin paused a moment, looking off into a distance much farther away than the cabin walls in front of her, before saying quietly, "It's no easy thing, to receive forgiveness that is undeserved. Harder, even, than asking and not getting it."

"But doesn't it hurt anyway, to not be forgiven?" Chopper asked, and Robin looked at him and said nothing, like she realized he already knew the answer.

Nami had said to give him time. But it had already been too long; Chopper might be a reindeer, but he was also a doctor. It was his job to heal people, to do no harm and to let no one suffer if it was in his power to stop it; and now he was failing that oath.

So the next morning, Chopper mustered up what courage he had—not Nami's or Luffy's or any of his nakama's, but it would have to do—selected the proper tool with a surgeon's discerning eye, and went to attend to his most consistently stubborn patient.

The climate had been getting warmer in the last day—their approaching destination was probably a spring or summer island. A summer one, Chopper hoped; as much as he disliked heat, he'd had enough of rain for a while. And Zoro was on the forecastle, as he usually would be on such a pleasant morning—not napping or exercising, however, but sitting on the deck, gazing through the railing out across the water, maybe seeking the first sight of land. Though if he really wanted to see the island, he should be up in the crow's nest..

He glanced over as Chopper's short shadow fell across his face, blocking the sunlight—then, as he realized which of his nakama it was, he turned around in a scrambling hurry.

Chopper jumped at the suddenness of the motion—even though Zoro's hand wasn't going anywhere near his swords, even though Zoro wasn't wearing his black bandana and the furrow in his brow was no deeper than it ever was, after he'd just woken up. Even though Chopper had braced himself to come up here, determined not to be scared at all. But he was still a reindeer, in spite of himself, and he jumped, hopping backwards a couple inches, his hooves squeaking on the deck.

And Zoro froze, stone-still, then muttered, "'Scuse me," and moved again, slowly standing, back pressed against the railing behind him. Standing up, he loomed over the half-reindeer, and his eyes were locked on Chopper, watching him intently, as terrifyingly intently as a hawk watching a mouse.

Or, no—as intently as a mouse would watch a hawk. As if, as nervous as Chopper was, Zoro was more nervous. Even though Zoro was like Luffy and didn't get nervous, didn't fear anything. Zoro was too strong to be afraid—but he almost looked afraid now, looking down at Chopper.

Which was completely ridiculous, the very idea of _Zoro_ being afraid of _him_!

Almost as ridiculous as he being afraid of Zoro...

They'd both been ridiculous long enough. And Zoro had stood to leave. "D-don't get up! Sit down!" Chopper snapped, marshaling his most commanding doctor's voice. Which wasn't terribly commanding, truth be told, but it was what he had. And while Zoro never listened to his medical advice, now he froze again, then obediently sat back down on the deck before Chopper.

"Good," Chopper said, nodding. "I need your help."

Zoro blinked at him. "My help?"

"Yeah," Chopper said. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the metal file he had borrowed from Usopp, and held it out towards his crewmate.

Zoro eyed the tool doubtfully. "What's that for?"

"My antler," Chopper explained, pointing. "This broken-off tip here keeps catching on things; I need it filed down, only I can't reach it myself like this, my arms are too short. And I don't have hands as a reindeer, and I don't have antlers when I'm in human form, so..."

Zoro looked at the broken point, frowning—not a frightening frown but a puzzled one; and then he remembered. Chopper could tell by the way his expression went still and flat.

 _"So you're the monster,"_ Zoro had said to him, that rainy night; only it hadn't been Zoro, not in any way that mattered. It might have been Zoro's katana that had sheared off his antler's point; but the swordsman wielding it hadn't been his nakama. That swordsman's cold eyes would never be staring at Chopper the way Zoro was staring at him now.

But he took the file by its wooden handle when Chopper pushed it at him, set it to the antler at Chopper's instruction and carefully started shaving it down with firm, level strokes. The steady rasp of the metal was soothing, and the deck boards were sun-warmed when Chopper sat on them. With the warmth, he didn't have to pretend to relax; he almost might have dozed off, if he hadn't remembered his purpose.

The next swipe Zoro made across his antler, Chopper jerked and yelped, as convincingly as he could when in truth his antlers had no nerves to pinch, "Ouch!"

The filing stopped, and Zoro automatically started to say, "Sor—"

Then he cut himself off. When Chopper looked around at him, Zoro's jaw was clamped as tight shut as Sanji's refrigerator, his fist wrapped around the file with the knuckles whitening.

"It's okay," Chopper said clearly. "Just an accident, no harm done." He settled himself back down on the deck between Zoro's knees, reached up with his hoof to feel the broken tip. "That's better, it's almost smoothed away now, isn't it? How does it look?"

"...Okay," Zoro said. "But uneven," and he tapped his finger on the opposite, unbroken antler.

"That's all right. Pretty soon my antlers will drop off and grow back, and then you won't know this one was ever broken."

"But you'll remember," Zoro said, almost desperately. "You can't just file that away—"

"No, but even memories get worn down, eventually," Chopper said. "And new memories grow over the old ones. Antlers can grow back, as long as the root's still there; it's the same with memories, isn't it? As long as the people you make them with are still there..."

Zoro was motionless behind him, though still breathing; Chopper could hear the reassuringly steady rhythm of his lungs working.

Chopper sat there listening to him for a moment longer, then said, "You're going to stay on the ship, aren't you, Zoro?" When Zoro still didn't answer, he babbled on, "Please stay—I don't want you to go. Even if I've been afraid, I'm more afraid that you'll leave. We can't do this, not without you, all our dreams—we need you—" Chopper gulped. "I don't want to make you stay, but if I have to, for the crew, I'll—"

"Chopper, don't."

Chopper jumped to his feet and looked up at Luffy, standing over them. He hadn't even heard the slap of sandals on the deck, but now their captain was looking down at them, his straw hat shading his face from the sun. In the brim's shadow his eyes were hard to read, as was his even tone. "Zoro," Luffy said, "if you want to get off the ship, you can, the next time we reach land."

Chopper heard the swordsman shift behind him, a tiny movement, one of his knees bumping Chopper's back. "But," Zoro said, and his voice sounded hoarse, rusty like a sword left in a damp scabbard, "but I swore—"

"This once," Luffy said, "I'll let you leave. But if you do, you can't come back on, ever. Even if you say you're sorry or beg. You'll still be my friend, but you won't sail in my crew anymore. But you can go, if you want to."

Luffy cocked his head, looking down at his swordsman. "So do you want to go? Or do you want to stay?"

"I want—" Zoro swallowed, cleared his throat of the rust, and Chopper didn't want to listen to the answer. He wanted to cry out, to yell at Zoro that he had to stay, to cry or fight or tie him up; he wanted to get the mesmerang and make it bite Zoro again, and order him to never leave—wanted to do anything to make him stay, but all he could do was sit and listen.

"—I want to stay," Zoro said.

"You—you do?" Chopper gasped, twisting around to stare up at his nakama in astonished relief.

Zoro turned the metal file between his fingers. "I guess I need to be here, if I'm going to make up for everything. Right?" and he looked down at Chopper—not smiling, not more than Zoro usually did; but he didn't look away when Chopper met his eyes.

"There!" Luffy said, grinning, and he crouched to whack Chopper on the back, hard enough to make him stumble. "I knew you could make him better, Dr. Chopper!"

"I—I didn't—you can't make me happy just by calling me doctor, dumbass!" Chopper protested, squirming and blushing wildly. "I'm not even any good at psychology, so you can't say I am—"

"Oi," Zoro said, "keep it down, I'm trying to sleep," and he moved them to give himself room to stretch out on the deck.

And if Zoro only gently pushed Luffy aside, and carefully picked up Chopper and put him down again, when usually he would have just kicked them out of the way; and if he gave Chopper a little pat on the back as he did it, before Chopper's fur ruffled with involuntary nerves—well, in time that too would grow back to how it used to be.

For now, Chopper thought, watching Zoro tuck his arms behind his head and shut his eyes, settling into his nap like neither a hurricane nor a Sea King nor a Marine raid could move their swordsman from his place on the ship—for now, this was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My greatest thanks to everyone who made it here! To everyone who read this story, those who just discovered it and those who came back and those who were with it all along, waiting patiently for all those years. Especially to everyone who favorited it or took the time to leave a review on ff.net or a comment here - you made it all worth it. Even when the chars were being so stubborn that I despaired of ever reaching any kind of conclusion, knowing someone out there was reading, wanting more, was the best encouragement I could have.
> 
> And thank you, Oda-sensei, for creating one of the greatest stories ever told. I can't say whether I've done justice to your amazing series and its incredible characters, but I certainly enjoyed playing with them!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Chinese translation on "Tiger Hunt"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/347091) by [renata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/renata/pseuds/renata)




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